Sweet Mercy
by vanityfair
Summary: Evil lurks on the side of a lonely mountain. Auror Hermione Granger reluctantly joins forces with her former professor to save the Wizarding world, again. HGSS postHBP.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

_Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge._

_William Shakespeare_

The wind blew through the trees, whipping branches into a frenzy and creating an unnatural howl. The moon peeked out from behind silver clouds, casting shadows and making everything seem more menacing than it really was.

The Auror held her wand at the ready. She had been sent to capture the last remaining Death Eater, holed up on the top of some mountain in the north. With every sense heightened, she picked her way through the brush. The path in front of her darkened further as the moon hid behind heavy clouds. Snow began to swirl around her. It hadn't been nighttime when she had started out, but she had come too far to go back when the sun had started to set. She questioned the wisdom of that decision now, pulling her cloak tighter around her with a shiver. She tried to tell herself it was simply because it was cold and snowing, but there might have been more to it.

A branch cracked under her feet, the sound of it echoing into the distance. Or maybe not. Every little noise seemed amplified to her. She thought the fugitive might even be able to hear the thumping of her heart from his ramshackle shack that was supposedly at the top of this hill. She paused to make sure no one was following her. But there was another noise, the crackling of dry leaves as someone walked over them. She put out the light in her wand, every muscle in her body tensed in anticipation.

Closer and closer it crept. The sounds getting louder until…

"_Stupefy!_" she yelled. A blast of red light leapt from her wand and something let out a muffled shriek. Relighting her wand, she saw she had successfully Stunned a small rabbit. She sighed in relief and marveled at her own silliness. She wasn't usually this twitchy, but her instincts told her that something was out here tonight, something evil.

Leaning down, she stroked the silky softness of the rabbit's fur. It probably would be out cold for several hours. That hex was meant for humans not small animals. She Disillusioned it with a pang of guilt, hoping that the Concealment Charm would keep any predators away until it awoke.

She was standing when she heard another branch crack behind her. This time, she knew it was no rabbit. She wheeled around to face whomever it was, only to come face to face with a bright light. Green with a bit of orange, her mind processed, before everything went dark, very, very dark.

She awoke to a pounding headache. She peeked through heavy eyelids, but then shut them again, the bright glaring light proving to be too much. Drifting in and out of consciousness, she vaguely recalled someone spooning soup to her, the hot liquid burning as it slid down her raw throat. Cold compresses were pressed to her brow and soft words mumbled.

Finally, she ventured to open her eyes fully. She was in a small room with bare walls. A fire blazed in a hearth, its heat filling the room. A fuzzy red rug covered the wooden floor. A desk covered in parchments and quills and a couple of open books sat in one corner. It was all very quaint, but homey.

And then her caretaker stepped into view. She gasped.

"I see you've finally woken up, Miss Granger," he sneered. It had been many, many years since she had her name spoken with the same quiet disdain.

"You!" she accused. Her voice was barely a raspy whisper and burned from the effort, but she tried to pour as much indignation into it as possible.

"Yes, me. Though you really should show more respect for the person who has saved your life…once again," he added.

She shut her eyes, trying to will him away. But when she opened them again, he was still there, only closer. The same greasy black hair, the same hooked nose and sallow skin, the same scowl. She was at the mercy of Severus Snape.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

_Blessed are the merciful; for they will be shown mercy._

Severus had literally stumbled onto Miss Granger while out collecting moon lilies. He cursed as he had to catch himself on a nearby tree to keep from sprawling out in the snow as she was. He didn't know why she was lying there on the ground like that, but she meant trouble for him, beyond just making him trip, and he considered for a moment leaving her there. Perhaps she had just gotten tired and had laid down to sleep. The puddle of blood, however, suggested otherwise.

_I should leave her here_, he thought, fear crowding out all rational thought. _She can only bring me trouble. _

Panicked, he glanced around to see if anyone else was around. It wasn't out of the realm of possibility that she was a snare, a trap, to bring him in to face justice. Well, he had had his day in court. Several in fact, and now he just wanted to be left alone. He was no longer a threat to anyone, and he couldn't understand why people couldn't just leave him in peace.

He gently kicked her, trying to rouse her, but to no avail. He tried kicking harder. She continued to just lie there. With a sigh, he leaned down and pushed her over onto her back. Her face was bruised and battered, blood trickled from her mouth and nose. Her cloak was torn in several places, and Severus could see that they tore through to the skin beneath.

And then there was a lingering aura surrounding her. He had been a Death Eater and had studied the Dark Arts for many years. He knew black magic when he saw it, and this girl had been on the receiving end of a very Dark spell.

This was no trap. Something or someone had attacked her. If he left her here, she would die. Exposure combined with her injuries would kill her slowly. Her lips were already blue. How long had she been out here?

An unexpected fit of consciousness welled up within him. Blocking out thoughts of the inevitable shrieks of horror when she realized who had saved her, he picked her up gingerly. Cradling her limp body in his arms, he made his way back down the hill to his small shack.

Kicking open the door, he looked at the couch and then through to the bedroom. If he put her in his bed, he would be forced to sleep out here. But the couch wasn't that comfortable. If she moved at all, she would fall off into the floor. Gritting his teeth, he bypassed the small living room and carried her into the bedroom. He laid her down on the bed, his eyes taking in her condition while he decided what to do next.

He really should call for someone. But his fireplace wasn't connected to the Floo network, and any owl would be traced back here. He wanted to help, but he wasn't willing to sacrifice his solitude for her. She already had his bed.

He considered Apparating to Saint Mungo's and just depositing her there and Apparating back, but for some reason he balked at this idea. Those dunderheads they called Healers had probably never even seen this curse. He had seen it only twice before, from the same wizard who had invented it. He wasn't even sure of its name, only that is was often deadly. Apparently, that person had taught it to someone else, someone who was in the area and hexing Severus' former students.

Whatever he decided to do, he needed to do it quickly. Going into the bathroom, he collected several potions bottles. They wouldn't cure her, but they would make her more comfortable in the meantime while he brewed the potion that would drain the Dark magic from her body.

_Just how do I get her to drink it?_ he thought, standing back over the bed. He had only brewed the potions for the infirmary at Hogwarts. He had never been in charge of dispensing them before. That had been Poppy's unfortunate task. Severus realized that getting unconscious people to drink potions was an involved process.

After a few moments of strategizing, he finally settled on pinching her nose and tipping the potion back. He massaged her throat to get her to swallow. With that task finished, he contemplated her other injuries. Her clothes were torn, and he could see that her skin was marked as well, but to be sure, he would have to undress her. He gulped at the thought. It had been two years since he had last spoken to another human being, other than the grocer in the nearby Muggle village, and many, many years since he had last seen a woman naked.

_Hermione Granger hardly qualifies as a woman,_ he told himself. She was his student.

_That was years ago,_ his libido argued back. _She's a woman now_. His eyes agreed, noticing how well she filled out her robes. Only her wild curls and pert nose remained of the skinny impertinent girl he had taught so many years ago.

It was odd seeing a former student, especially like this. They had come into his classroom, and for seven years he had tried hard to impress upon them some knowledge that would help them get through life, but then he rarely saw them again after they left the castle, never knew if he had succeeded or failed miserably. Probably the latter in most cases. It appeared as though Miss Granger had learned nothing from the few short months he had taught her Defense Against the Dark Arts, allowing herself to be caught out in the woods as she had. If only there had been more time. If only things had been different—the same mantra that played in his head on an almost constant basis since that fateful day on the Astronomy tower.

_But things aren't different_, he thought harshly. And there was nothing he could do but help her now. Her robes were torn and spotted with blood. If he was going to save her, he would have to undress her and attend to her injuries.

Severus clenched his eyes shut and whispered the necessary charm. He peeked out of one eye. The deathly pallor of her face continued below, the dark red of the blood in high contrast to her pale skin. Tossing aside his hesitation, he went to work. Warmth flooded through his arm down his hand and out through his wand as he conjured the healing magic necessary to knit her wounds back together.

By the time he had finished, a sheen of sweat covered his brow. He didn't often have to perform magic at this level over a length of time, but there was little time to rest if Miss Granger was going to pull through this ordeal. He took an old robe from the wardrobe and Transfigured into a nightgown. Another whispered charm and she was dressed and tucked into bed. If not for the bruises and freshly closed cuts on her face, she would have been a picture of serenity. Instead, she looked small and vulnerable.

_What had brought her out here at this time of night…and by herself?_ he wondered.

_Does anyone even know she is here?_

Questions plagued him. Had someone left her there to go for help? Would someone trace her back to him? The longer she stayed here, the more likely it was that someone tracked her back to him. But surely if someone had been with her, they wouldn't have left her there to be covered in snow. He had no proof, nothing more than a feeling, but he felt that Miss Granger had been alone tonight. Like him. And she needed his help.

He pushed away any thoughts of sympathy or ideas of protecting her. She was a nuisance to be rid of, and the sooner he brewed the potion needed to heal her completely, the sooner he could go back to being alone. And he liked being alone.

Going into the other room, he searched his stores for the necessary ingredients. With an efficiency honed after decades of meticulous brewing, he gathered the bottles and containers he would need. He filled a copper cauldron with a rosewater base and lit a low flame with his wand. Lining everything up in order it was to be added, he reached up on the shelf for the last ingredient, but instead of a small vial, he found nothing but empty space.

_I thought for sure…_

He checked again. Nothing.

He had everything but one—phoenix tears, a rare and expensive ingredient. One that the Ministry happened to monitor the sale of. The only way Severus would be able to get his hands on it without leaving a trail back to him would be the black market. He balled his fists up in frustration, resisting the urge to throw something.

_Damn Miss Granger and her trouble-seeking ways! Damn her for finding her way to my door! _

He hoped that his regular supplier, Saren, would be able to get his hands on some, and fast. Miss Granger was going to need it.

Severus pulled his cloak around him tightly as he crept through the deserted streets like a shadow. A generous hood obscured his face, an unneeded precaution in the dark of night with no one around, but he couldn't take any chances of being recognized. The Wizengamot had reluctantly acquitted him of any charges in regards to Dumbledore's death, but that hadn't stopped them from trying to bring other charges against him. They ranged from petty and small crimes to large ridiculous claims that he was worse than the Dark Lord himself had been. After several years of constant court dates, he had stopped trying to defend himself and had fled for the peace and security of solitude and anonymity.

But one misstep, one unlucky glance at his face, and they would be on his tail again. He knew of at least two outstanding warrants for him. He was certain there were more by now, perhaps even reward money for the person who managed to bring him in. The thought that Miss Granger had been sent to capture him had crossed his mind, and if that happened to be the case, he planned to heal her, Obliviate her, and then leave her in the middle of nowhere to find her way home. However, first he had to save her.

At the end of Knockturn Alley, Severus arrived at a heavy wooden door with a tarnished silver snake knocker. With it, he rapped twice, the sound magically muffled. He glanced around just to make sure no one had followed him while he waited for Saren to get out of bed. Not many people knew about this place outside of a few elite potions makers. Saren sold the finest ingredients and supplies the world's finest potion suppliers like Slug and Jigger's Apothecary. He sold directly only to a select group who were willing to pay, and he had always been able to get Severus what he needed with less trouble and paperwork than he would have to suffer elsewhere. They had a decades old relationship that had proved mutually beneficial, and Severus hoped he would come through for him again tonight.

The door creaked open several minutes later, a short, stumpy man stuck his head out. His short brown hair was matted to his head, and he rubbed at his eyes. Severus had obviously woken him up. "This had better be good," he squeaked.

"It is," Severus said, pushing past him.

"Snape! What do you want?" Saren closed the door quickly and followed him into the room.

"Quiet!" he ordered. "No one can know I am here."

"You say that every time," the small man said with a yawn. He wore a velvet dressing gown over a silk nightshirt, a testament to his success. The ornate décor of the sitting room was yet another. "What do you need that required you to wake me up in the middle of the night?"

"Phoenix tears." Severus went to stand by the fire, holding his hands out in an effort to warm them. It wasn't much warmer in London than it had been in the north.

"You're joking right? Do you know how hard those are to come by?" Saren said with a laugh. He sat down in one of the overstuffed chairs in the room, propping his feet up on the coffee table.

"I'm brewing the Evictus Potion," Severus explained, turning around.

"Why?" Saren stared at him, appraising his appearance. "You look fine to me."

"It's not for me. It doesn't matter why. Can you get it?"

Saren paused, wrinkling his brow as he considered the matter. He counted something off on his fingers and muttered under his breath. "It'll be expensive."

Severus nodded. He had expected that.

"Your grandfather's watch."

"No."

"Then I'm off to bed," Saren said, standing. Severus watched as the dwarf marched out of the room, leaving any hope of Miss Granger's survival with him. He thought about the watch sitting dusty in a forgotten drawer at home—his last connection to the Prince family name. Without that watch, he was nothing but a Snape, the son of a mill worker, a Muggle.

"Wait," he called. Saren stopped, but didn't turn around. "Fine," he relented.

"Excellent." Saren came back into the room, sitting down at the desk in the one corner and pulling out parchment and a quill. He began to scratch out a note.

"How long have you been waiting for an opportunity to swindle me out of that watch?" Severus asked.

"Since you showed it to me, all those years ago," Saren answered with a smirk, his quill pausing. Severus knew it had been a mistake to show such a precious heirloom to someone as conniving as Saren. And he certainly shouldn't have explained the extent of its magical properties in such detail. The minute Saren had heard that the watch could rewind time thirteen seconds, his eyes had lit up, and his smile had turned devious.

"You can have it on one condition."

"And what is that?" Saren asked suspiciously.

"Write it in to your will that I am to inherit it back."

"So that you can kill me. I think not."

Severus shook his head, affecting a look of dismayed hurt. "How could you think such a thing of me?" Saren snorted at this but Severus ignored him, continuing on. "Besides, if I got rid of you then who would I get my ingredients from? No one else would sell to me."

"What makes you think I'll die before you?"

"I don't know, but just in case I do go before you, the watch should stay in my family. It will be a loan of sorts. Yours for the rest of your life." Saren considered this, finally nodding slowly.

"None of my worthless sons would know what to do with it anyway," he said, holding out his hand. "I can trust you?" It was the same question he always asked Severus.

"No," he answered. It was the same response every time. You can always trust a dishonest man to be dishonest, a motto among thieves.

"Good, then it's a deal." Severus took his hand and shook it.

"When can you have it?"

"Two days. Will that be in time to save your princess?" Saren asked with a twinkle in his eye. He almost reminded Severus of the headmaster. All he needed was some insufferable Muggle candy.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Severus grumbled.

"Yes, you do. I hope she's worth it."

Severus didn't answer, but threw the hood of his cloak up and exited. With a pop, he Disapparated back to his tiny shack where Miss Granger laid waiting for him. He hoped so too.

She had a fever when he returned, her skin glistening when he went in to check on her. Severus didn't know what to do. The potions he had given her appeared to have little to no effect. The Dark magic from the curse coursed through her veins and it was all her immune system could do to keep up. Severus knew this spell. It was something between the Cruciatus and the Killing Curse. It killed you, but not right away. Instead, it was slow and painful.

A lone memory of his grandmother pressing a cool wet cloth to his forehead flashed through his mind.

"Good old fashioned medicine will take care of this," his grandmother had told him sternly. "None of this silly business your mother keeps trying." Young Severus could only nod meekly. His grandmother could be fierce when contradicted and he didn't dare tell her that his mum's medicines made him feel better almost instantly whereas her treatment left him in bed or in the loo for most of the day.

He didn't have any of his grandmother's nasty medications but a cold compress might help. Couldn't hurt at any rate. He went into the bathroom and returned with a wet washcloth. Hermione whimpered, in pain or at some imagined foe, he didn't know, when he placed it on her head.

"Shhh," he whispered. "You're safe now."

She calmed at his words, so he continued on. It was better than talking to himself, and it wasn't as if she would remember any of it later anyway.

"Foolish girl. I always thought it was your pathetic friends who got you into trouble, but I see you do well enough on your own." He paused a moment to brush away the hair from her face. Her left eye was black and blue, the eyelid swollen shut, made worse by the fact that her skin was a disturbing shade of white.

"You are going to be fine," he told her firmly, sounding more like the Professor Snape she knew. "Mainly, because I do not need a dead body on my hands. The authorities might start asking obnoxious questions." He said it sarcastically, but there was truth in it. He needed to brew that potion, and soon.

He left her in the bedroom and went into the main room, where he had started the potion. He didn't have the phoenix tears, but he could start brewing the base. It would take two days before it was ready for the final ingredient anyway. Taking a deep breath, he continued where he had started before he left for London. Minutes later and he had slipped into a comfortable rhythm, the same as he always did when he brewed potions. It was meditative, relaxing.

Several hours later, light peeked around the shades in the window before Severus finished with the first steps. He sighed as he finished with the last stir. Now it needed to simmer for twelve hours, and he needed to sleep. He looked at his lumpy couch ruefully, and then thought about the girl in his bed. Lying down, he cursed her again. She wasted his time, invaded his home, and stole his bed. He closed his eyes, shifting around to get comfortable. If she survived this ordeal, she was going to be getting a mouthful from him. He would make sure that she regretted ever crossing his path again.

He rolled over to fluff the cushion and fell into the floor with a grunt.

"Son of a…." he shouted, stopping short only because he was afraid the woman in the next room might hear him.

His voice echoed through the small house. He stood up quickly and brushed off his robes. That was it. He didn't care about propriety, Miss Granger's feelings, or the fact that he hadn't shared a bed with a woman, former student or otherwise, in over a decade. He marched into the bedroom, threw back the covers, and climbed in. He glanced over at Miss Granger. She remained still. If his yelling before hadn't woken her, then nothing would. Severus lay back with a sigh. She wouldn't wake for days; she would never know. And if he didn't get some sleep, he wouldn't be able to brew properly.

The next three days were a blur of caring for Miss Granger and tending to the potion. At some point, he managed to pull his grandfather's watch from its place in the back of a drawer. He dusted it off carefully, turning it over and over in his hands. It was heavy, the gold now dingy and tarnished. Maybe Saren would fix it up; he cared about such things. Wrapping his fingers around it, he held it to his chest, his eyes drifting shut as he thought about his grandfather.

Severus hadn't met him until after his mother's death. He had been seventeen, the summer between his sixth and seventh year at Hogwarts. A tall, wiry man with long gray hair approached him as he stood standing at the gravesite. He remembered that it had been raining, like the heavens had understood his pain, and the rain dripped down his nose, blending in with his tears.

"You her son?" the man had asked gruffly. Severus could tell he was a wizard by his robes. He wore Muggle clothing like he always did when away from Hogwarts, his father scoffing at the idea of men wearing what he thought looked like dresses.

"Yes."

The man looked him up and down, not appearing to be very pleased with what he saw. "Here," he said, shoving something into his hands. "This is meant to be passed down from father to son in the Prince family. I didn't have a son—" he looked disparagingly down at the granite tombstone—"so I suppose you'll have to do. Don't let that dirty Muggle of a father get his grubby hands on it, you hear."

Severus nodded. And then watched as he walked away. It wasn't until years later that he discovered that the watch did more than tell time.

But it didn't matter. He had never had occasion to use its special capabilities. And Miss Granger's life was more important than old heirloom from a man who hadn't really wanted him to have it in the first place.

He wrapped it up and sent it away without another thought with his owl, Icarus. The next day, the black bird returned with a package. Inside was a vial—the phoenix tears. He looked in his cauldron where the lumpy green liquid bubbled and steamed. With a steady hand, he poured in three drops, and then it stirred it four times. After two minutes, the potion changed to a light lavender color. It was done.

Quickly, he bottled it up and took it in to Miss Granger. Her condition had deteriorated in the last three days. Her skin was nearly gray and covered in sweat. She tossed and turned, moaning in pain, when he didn't keep her heavily sedated. He coaxed it down her throat, then took a step back and waited.

Moments passed with no change.

"Come on, you obstinate girl," he pleaded with her. He did not go to all this trouble, work straight through three days with little sleep, and give up the family watch just to watch her die.

Finally, her eyes fluttered open. She looked around, her gaze searching the room until it landed on him.

"You," she said. It was weak; almost a whisper, but he caught the accusation nonetheless. He hadn't expected gratitude, not really, but the venom in her voice still stung after all he had done.

"Yes, me. Though you really should show more respect for the person who has saved your life…once again," he added. He moved closer to feel her forehead. He needed to see to what extent the potion had worked. More than likely, she would need subsequent doses. Her eyes drifted shut only to fly open again as he approached. He stopped his hand, and stared down at her.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said, trying to sound gentle. But from the fearful look in her eye, he could tell it had come out harsher than he had intended, a habit from his days of teaching he had yet to break. She didn't say anything, biting at her lip.

_Well, at least she has learned some tact_, he thought. He didn't notice that she had turned a nice shade of green until it was too late. Her silence had been more of necessity than politeness, though she did manage to mumble a soft "sorry" about the mess now dripping from his robes and boots. It was times like these that he was especially glad to be a wizard. With a wave of his wand, he cleaned the floor and himself, and then went into the bathroom to fetch another potion—something to calm her stomach. He should have remembered that the Evictus Potion sometimes had that effect.

"Here, drink this," he said when he returned, shoving it into her hands. "And then you can tell me what in the bloody hell you were doing out here in the first place."

Her hands shook as she downed the potion. "You," she said, her voice low and hoarse. "I was looking for you."


	3. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks to betas Larilee and Zara.

**Chapter Two**

_"The quality of mercy is not strain'd, It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath. It is twice blest, It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes . . ."_

_William Shakespeare_

"I was looking for you," Hermione said. Her head ached, and her legs, and arms, and every part of her. Her stomach tossed and turned. If it had been anyone other than Severus Snape she might have felt guilty for throwing up over his shoes. As it was, her anger at seeing him here, alive and well, angered her. When he had disappeared all those years ago, she had hoped never to see him again, never to hear of him, and a small part of her, the part that believed that revenge didn't get its fair shake, wished he had died a painful death.

"Why?"

"You killed Dumbledore," she accused him.

"Not according to the Wizengamot, Miss Granger. – Or is it Mrs. Weasley these days?" he asked with a sneer.

"It's Granger, and you only got off because Harry wasn't around to testify."

"Yes, it was quite nice of him to disappear like that." He smirked, crossing his arms across his chest and leaning back on the desk behind him.

"Quite." Her eyes narrowed and she clenched her fists. How dare he stand there so perfectly smug and speak to her like that about Harry? No one had seen or heard from her friend in over ten years; he had disappeared in the months following the defeat of Lord Voldemort, never to be seen again. A day didn't go by in which she didn't wonder what had happened to him.

"But that doesn't explain why you are here now." Snape continued. "Surely, you aren't so foolhardy as to try to bring me in on a charge that has long since been dismissed. What is it this time? Money laundering? Theft? Jaywalking? I'll plead innocent to each."

"How about assaulting an Auror?" she retorted, fighting down another wave of nausea.

He lunged at her then, pushing her back into the pillow. His hands gripped her shoulders, his long finger biting into her skin. "I saved you, you ungrateful wench!" he hissed, his face twisted into an ugly sneer.

Fear coursed through her. She was weakened, and still in pain. Threatening her attacker was probably not the best idea.

Then he released her, as quickly as he had attacked, and turned his back on her. "Should I have left you in the snow to die, Miss Granger? Is that what you would have wanted?"

What was he talking about? "But…if not you – then who?" she stammered.

"I don't know." His voice was soft and he looked thoughtful. After a moment his eyes flicked over her, and then turning, he stalked out of the room. Even as Sick as she was, Hermione noticed that his voluminous black robes swished in the same manner they had when she was in school. She was starting to wonder where he had gone when he returned, carrying a bowl and spoon.

"This should be easier now that you're awake," he told her. . He sat on the edge of the bed next to her and held it out.

She shook her head. Despite the potion, he had given her, her stomach still churned. "I don't think…"

"Nonsense, you haven't eaten in days, not much anyway." He held the spoon out to her.

"You mean you tried before…" Hermione balked. She tried to imagine Snape spooning soup to her prone form and had a hard time coming up with an image that wasn't completely ridiculous.

"With mixed results." He frowned at her. "Now eat." Reluctantly, she let him feed her, the warm chicken broth warming her all over. She hadn't realized how cold she was until she felt its warmth sliding down her throat. But even still, her stomach did not welcome the food.

"You never answered my question, Miss Granger," Snape said after a few bites, when it was obvious she could eat no more. She met his gaze. "What were you looking for out there?"

"There have been strange sightings and livestock killed in the last several weeks. The Muggles are starting to notice. I was sent to investigate." The rumors had been worrisome. She had come to see if they were true, but before she could discover anything definitive, she had ended up here with Severus Snape, her primary suspect.

"And you thought it was me?" His tone was defensive, and perhaps a little hurt, Hermione noticed.

"You were last rumored to be in this area and it…" She paused at his withering look. "You were a Death Eater," she finished lamely. The picture in her head of him in his Death Eater robes didn't quite mesh with him sitting here, spooning her soup. Death Eaters didn't take in dying Muggleborns and save them, didn't tenderly nurse them back to health. 'But,' she told herself sternly, 'he still killed Professor Dumbledore.' Nothing could change that.

"Past tense, Miss Granger. I was a Death Eater. People change." He took the bowl and left the room.

Hermione lay back in the bed with a sigh. People could change. People did change. Hadn't she? She thought about the girl he must remember. Merlin, she had been annoying. Insufferable know-it-all he had called her. Still, a know-it-all was different from being a Death Eater. She hadn't killed anyone with her many questions. But she didn't debate the matter long drifting off to sleep in a matter of minutes.

He sat in his cave, breathing heavily. Anger and elation battled within him. On one hand, he had insisted that his contact at the Ministry keep his existence quiet until the appropriate time. On the other hand, the unwanted intruder had merited an opportunity to test his growing skills. It had felt divine to feel such power course through his veins again, but it took energy. Energy he no longer had. But he would soon. When he had the right potion, the world would be his for the taking. And he knew just who he wanted to brew it for him. Time, all in good time.

When Hermione woke again it was dark. She shifted in bed, trying to find a comfortable position. Stabbing pains shot down her legs every few seconds and the rest of her body ached all over. Tears pricked at her eyes. She wondered if Snape could brew something to help alleviate it. He had been nice enough to give her a stomach potion earlier, and the one that had revived her. She wondered where he was. He had left her in the bedroom after making her eat, and then she had fallen asleep. Had he come back? Rolling onto her side, she gasped. The subject of her thoughts lay right there next to her.

"What are you doing?" she shrieked, her voice cracking. Just the effort of it sent shocks of pain screaming through her temples.

Snape's eyes flew open and he frowned at her surprised look. "Trying to sleep," he grumbled.

"With me?"

"I only have one bed, Miss Granger."

"You don't have a couch?" she asked indignantly.

"I do, and it's narrow, lumpy, and not long enough to lie all the way down. You're welcome to it, if you like. It's right through there." He pointed towards the door leading out to what Hermione assumed was the living room. She debated between the idea of trying to sleep on a lumpy sofa with her aching body, and sleeping with her former professor, the former professor who had been a Death Eater and killed the headmaster. It hurt too much. She decided on sleeping with him.

"No, thank you," she said sharply, the pain making her grumpy and irritable.

"I didn't think so. Now if you don't mind, I'm going back to sleep." He rolled over, facing the other direction.

"Fine." Hermione rolled in the opposite direction, scooting as far away from him as she could get.

'Has he been sleeping next to me this whole time?' she wondered.

She seethed at the idea. She hated sleeping with somebody else, always had. When she had been a little girl, her mother forced her to share a bed with her two cousins when they came to visit. They stole the covers and threw their legs over hers, until Hermione couldn't stand it any longer. Every year her mother would come in the morning to find Hermione had moved to the floor.

Years later, Ron had laughed at her and then gotten frustrated when she refused to cuddle in bed with him for more than ten minutes. She couldn't help it. She liked her space, and she certainly did not like finding that she had been sharing it with Severus Snape.

At the memory of Ron, she scooted angrily closer to the bed's edge. She over calculated on just how big the bed was, however, and found herself falling to the floor. She landed with a thump and a yelp.

"What are you doing now?" Snape demanded, peering over the edge of the bed.

Hermione whimpered in pain, trying in vain to haul herself up to where she could climb into bed. But she could do no more than prop herself up on her arms before they gave out and she crashed back to the cold floor. Her legs refused to respond to her mental commands, lying still even as she willed for them to move.

"I fell," she explained.

"Yes, I can see that." With a long-suffering sigh, he crawled out of bed and came around to where she lay. Hermione nearly cried at the embarrassment of needing to have him help her back up. He must have sensed it, because surely he couldn't see her watery eyes in the darkened room.

"I won't tolerate sniveling," he warned as he bent down to pick her up. It sounded like something he might have said as her professor so long ago. She half-expected him to deduct points from Gryffindor while he was at it. But the tone was somewhat different—less harsh than before, and wearier. He scooped her into his arms. Hermione clung to him, frightened he might drop her, her hands fisted into his nightshirt.

"It hurts," she whispered.

"Well if you would stop throwing yourself out of beds…"

"It's not just that, it…"

"I know," he said, interrupting her. "Ssshhh." He laid her gently in the bed, pulling the covers up over her and tucking her in. She was reminded of her father doing the same thing when she had been a small child. It felt odd to have Snape doing it now. He brushed back the curls from her face and placed his hand on her forehead. "You're feverish. Will you stay in the bed if I go and fetch a potion?"

She scowled at the sarcasm but nodded. He waved his wand and the candles in the room burst to life. Hermione shut her eyes against the instant light. When she opened them again, he stood there with a goblet, steam pouring out of it.

"Pepperup?" she asked.

He nodded. "With something added to help with the pain."

He slid one hand beneath her, helping her to sit upright long enough to drink the medicine. It tasted awful—bitter and strong. She gagged at the first sips, but he urged her on. He only let her lie back down when steam was pouring out of her ears. Almost instantly she felt better, the dull ache in her bones lessening and the pains in her legs stopping.

"Better?"

Hermione nodded, waiting for him to extinguish the lights and climb back in bed before asking, "What happened to me?"

He didn't answer right away, pulling the covers up over him first. He lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling as though it might have the answers to her question.

"You were hit with a very Dark curse. It's meant to kill a person slowly and painfully. I found you lying in the snow on the side of a hill."

"But why not just take me to St. Mungo's? Why bring me back here?"

"The curse is rare. I don't know it's name, although I do know how to treat it. I doubt the Healers at St. Mungo's would have known what to do with you. You most likely would have died if I hadn't brought you back here."

His answer surprised Hermione. And she suddenly found it much harder to hate him than it had been this afternoon when she had first woke up. How could she despise the person who had saved her life? She frowned, but one thing still bothered her. "How did you know what to do?" she asked.

"I've seen it used before." His answer was clipped.

She felt sure there was something he wasn't saying. "When?"

"I saw it twice," he answered after a moment of silence. She heard him breathe into the darkness. "When I was a Death Eater." Rolling over, he faced away from her. It was a signal that the conversation had ended. Hermione nodded into the darkness. She had no desire to continue talking; the medicine made her sleepy and she felt herself becoming fuzzy minded. Even so, it occurred to her as she fell asleep, that if Severus Snape had not once been a Death Eater, she might have died out there on that mountainside. It was not the most comforting of thoughts.

Severus woke early the next morning. Slightly amused, he saw Miss Granger had pulled herself into a tight little ball, balancing on the edge of the bed. All the better for him. It only meant more room. Although, he considered, if she took to falling out of the bed every night something would have to be done. He dressed quickly in his habitual black robes and went into the kitchen to fetch her potion. He had brewed enough to last two weeks. She would have to take it twice a day if she were to recover fully. Pouring one dose into a mug, he headed back to the bedroom. Her eyes were just fluttering open when he walked in.

"Good morning." He tried to sound cheerful but failed. He never had been a morning person. Or an afternoon or evening one, for that matter.

She grunted a response, experimentally stretching her legs and arms out, and yawning. Apparently, she was not a morning person either. 'So much the better,' he thought.

"Here," he said, handing her the potion bottle. She took it, her hands still shaking slightly, and downed it in one gulp. Severus remembered to conjure a bucket for her this time, shoving it into her lap just before she emptied the contents of her stomach

"Are you just going to stand there?" she gasped in between spasms.

"Yes," he answered tersely. How did Healers put up with this on a day-to-day basis? He suddenly developed a greater respect for Poppy Pomfrey, shuddering at all the times he had snapped at her when she had only been trying to help. Had she felt the same frustration and desire to poison her patients that he was feeling now?

"You gave me a potion for it last night."

"Last night I was impatient to get answers from you. Today I am not."

"Bastard," she mumbled before another coughing fit seized her. She was at it for another five minutes before it ended. There hadn't been much, just the soup from last night and then dry retching. He would bring her breakfast later, but he thought it would be easier this first time if she hadn't eaten. When she finally lay back on the bed, he Vanished the bucket. Her skin was pale white and glistened with sweat. Her chest heaved with the exertion.

"There is Dark Magic coursing through your veins. If it is allowed to stay, it will slowly kill you. The Evictus Potion purges your system," he explained. She didn't answer. He assumed she had fallen back asleep. He started back into the kitchen to prepare them both some breakfast.

"It's terribly crude," she said softly when he reached the threshold of the door. Her breathing still had not returned to normal and he wondered if there was anything to be done about that.

"Just because it is magic does not mean it is simple, Miss Granger. And right now, it is all you have," he said, leaving her alone in the bed.

He made some toast and a cup of tea, deciding to linger over the Daily Prophet rather than rush back to Miss Granger. He had spent the last three days doing nothing but worrying about her, and now that he knew that in time she would heal, he decided to relax. When he finished he made some more for her and took it in.

"I'm not hungry," she protested when he coaxed her to sit up.

"I don't care. You need to get your strength back so you can go home and leave me in peace." She scowled at that. Severus scowled back, and pushed the toast towards her. "If you eat, I will give you a potion for the pain."

The bribe worked and she downed the food. The potion he gave her was a mild narcotic and put her to sleep mere minutes after he administered it.

For the next five days, they followed the same pattern. She woke up only to take the Evictus Potion. He stayed with her while she threw up. She ate, then took the pain potion, and then fell back asleep. If it wasn't for her soft snores, he might forget she was even there in the in between times.

"No," she said on the sixth day as he held out the cup holding the pain reliever.

"I do not feel like arguing with you. Now take it." He pressed it into her hand.

"Please don't make me take it. I have been out of my head for over a week, unaware of anything," she pleaded. There was a quiet desperation in her voice, enough that Severus took back the cup.

"So you've developed a liking for my company?" he remarked snidely. He predicted that she wouldn't last more than an hour, maybe two, before she was begging him to give her the potion. She may not be aware, but she wouldn't be in constant pain either.

She ignored his sarcasm. "Can I sit out in the main room with you?"

He grimaced.

"I won't be a bother, I promise. Maybe you have some books I could read."

"You're already a bother," he snarled. "I don't see how moving your location will change anything." She beamed despite his harsh tone. "Can you walk?"

She nodded enthusiastically, swinging her legs around over the edge of the bed.

"I'll be fine, you'll see," she said. Severus hovered nearby just in case. And it was a good thing he did too. She didn't make it two steps before she stumbled. He caught her under her arms.

"I'm okay," she gasped.

"Of course you are," he retorted. He eased her arms over his shoulders with one arm and reached down to collect her legs with the other. He was becoming expert in carrying her around. She clung to his robes, her cheeks turning a bright pink, whether from embarrassment at having fallen or the sudden closeness, he didn't know. But he noticed that her face looked better for it. Her color had been so off lately that she looked almost healthy blushing as she was.

Setting her down on the couch, he went to find her some books and spare copies of the newspaper that were still lying around.

"You're right, this couch is lumpy," she said when he came back. She shifted around to find a better position. He contemplated telling her that it was a useless effort, but she looked so earnest and hopeful.

"I told you." He nodded, handing her a stack of reading material. "Now not a peep out of you," he warned. She smiled and reached for the day's paper.

Severus went to work on his potions, sticking to the simpler ones so he could keep a close eye on his patient. He watched as she thumbed through each of the papers in turn, searching for something in particular. Whatever it was she was looking for did not seem to be there, because she became more and more agitated. Probably looking for news of her disappearance, he thought viciously. Hadn't she always been attracted to the spotlight? First with Potter, and for a short while with that Quidditch player, Krum. If she managed to bring in evidence that would finally convict him, she would be plastered all over the papers again. He vowed never to let her get that far. She owed him.

The thought of the Wizengamot bringing him to trial again irritated Severus to the point that he almost ruined a potion he could normally do with his eyes closed. He liked it better when she was drugged and in the other room. Having her here in front of him reminded him too much of things he desperately wanted to forget.

"I'm walking into town," he declared abruptly. Hermione looked up from her newspaper in surprise at this sudden proclamation.

"I need the fresh air. And we need heartier food if you're going to get your strength back," he said as way of explanation.

She nodded. "Be careful," she warned as he put on his cloak.

"I am not afraid of the boogeyman, Miss Granger," he snapped.

Her brow furrowed and her eyes flashed with anger. "Perhaps you should be," she replied in kind, motioning at herself.

Severus nodded, and left without another word.

The walk helped to clear his head, but what he heard in town did nothing to ease his concerns about being accused of things in which he had no part.

"Did you hear about Robertson's cow?" an elderly woman asked the cashier at the small corner grocery.

"No, what?"

Severus tapped his foot impatiently, his arms full of food, but neither one noticed that there was a paying customer to be helped. Not that he was surprised. He was an outsider here, and hadn't been welcomed with open arms. In fact, most of the townspeople did their best to ignore him. Which was fine most of the time, just not when his carton of chocolate ice cream was melting in his arms.

"Ended up in the top of a tree last night," the old woman said.

"Really?" Severus hated people who asked that question. It was a waste of breath. Although he rather thought everything that came out of this short, spotty teenager wasn't worth listening to.

She nodded, looking around to see if anyone else was around. She eyed Severus for a moment, and then turned back to the cashier. "That's not all," she said in a stage whisper.

"What else?" The boy ducked his head in the same manner, using the same affected whisper. Severus didn't know whether to laugh at the two or just hex them and make off with his groceries.

"It was drained of its blood, and the entrails were spread out in a sort of pattern."

"Who would do that?" The cashier sounded terrified.

"Devil worshippers, that's what I say," the woman said. She turned around and looked pointedly at Severus. He had had enough.

"I'd like to pay and leave, if you please," he said sharply, dumping his goods on the counter. The old woman stepped back, but she continued to eye him while the cashier rang him up.

"Good day," he said, leaving as soon as he had paid. He decided not to walk back, but found a deserted corner and Apparated home instead.

What he heard disturbed him. Miss Granger had not been lying when she said strange things were going on. And then there was the matter of her attack. Just what was up there on the side of that mountain? Severus wasn't sure he wanted to find out.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

_Human kindness has never weakened the stamina..._

_Franklin D. Roosevelt_

The images overwhelmed her—bloody carcasses, so butchered that it was impossible to tell if they were human or not, houses burning, the screams of the occupants ringing in her ears, and the looks on loved ones faces as they were forced to stand by and watch. The dreams kept coming, but Hermione was too weak to protest Snape giving her the second potion.

When she finally did have the strength to ask him not to, she was bent on proving she didn't need it. She couldn't keep having those dreams. But she didn't make it very far before she stumbled and fell. She blushed, clinging to him, as he carried her into the living room. He brought her some books and papers to read, told her to be quiet, and then left her in peace.

She watched him go back to his potions, looking away quickly when his eyes glanced over her way. He was a mystery to her—all vitriol and irritation when he spoke to her, but the way he touched her… He held her hair back after he gave her the Evictus Potion, wiped her mouth with a cold cloth afterwards, and smoothed the covers over her before giving her the next.

He looked up from his potion making at her with a stern look, reminding her of her years at school. She glanced quickly down at the _Daily Prophet_ in her hands, searching for any hint that her letter to the editor had been read. There was nothing there. Nor any news about her investigation. She could hear Snape rustling around, and then with no warning, he announced he was leaving.

She hadn't even said anything. They were doomed to a miserable couple of days if he couldn't even stand the sight of her. Why bring her here if that was the case? It was too puzzling.

But Hermione had a different mystery to solve. She hoped this one was easier to figure out. She flipped through the papers again with a frown. She hadn't expected it necessarily to have made the front page news, although it was a bit of a hit to the ego to see that her attack and disappearance hadn't usurped the Quidditch scores or a new cauldron series coming out. After five papers, she was ready to cry. Had no one reported her missing?

Snape had left, so she couldn't ask him how long she had been here. But she hadn't reported in to work for days. Surely, someone had noticed by now. Maybe they had even started to give some credence to her insistence that something really was going on up here.

'Or,' a small part of her brain thought. 'They're glad to be rid of you for a week or two.' She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the thought. The real world it had turned out was not like school. Battling trolls together did not make you friends outside of Hogwarts. Instead, it got you an irritated look from your partner and a warning from your superior that you should really check those things before crossing bridges.

Her family wasn't accustomed to hearing from her but once or twice a year. And she hadn't many friends outside one girl at work who occasionally asked her out for drinks on a Friday. The Weasley's had tried to keep in touch, but Hermione had pushed herself so hard those first few years at the Aurory, and with Ron gone in Egypt, it became too painful to visit the Burrow. But she had thought, had hoped, someone might notice.

And hadn't she been right? There was something dangerous up here on this forsaken mountain. And it had tried to kill her. She still might not recover completely.

Tears formed in her eyes until they overflowed and spilled over onto her cheeks. She swiped at them, furious at herself for giving in to the misery. But her body ached. Her head pounded, and her stomach churned. Where was Snape? She wanted her potion.

Almost as if he knew she was thinking of him, he popped into existence. Hermione furrowed her brow at his sudden appearance, trying to wipe her nose on her sleeve without him noticing that she was crying. She thought she had fooled him. He looked at her for a moment, but didn't say anything, turning instead to put down the groceries he carried. When he did come over, he brought a goblet of the steaming potion.

"I knew you wouldn't last without it," he said. She didn't like the doubt she heard in his voice, nor the biting tone for that matter.

"I'm fine," she insisted, pushing his arm away as he came closer. The thought of the images returning outweighed the misery she had felt just minutes before.

"Nonsense. You're blubbering and getting it all over my couch."

She swiped at her eyes on last time. "I said no," she said firmly.

He looked at her with cold eyes, but didn't make her drink it. Instead, he turned and stalked back towards the table. With a wave of his wand, the groceries flew into the cupboards. With a flick, a radio burst to life. Hermione recognized the voice of a Wizarding Wireless Network DJ introducing a song. One swish later and a fire leapt up in the fireplace. All in all, it was very homey.

"I heard some interesting things in town," he said, coming to sit in the chair across from her.

"Really?"

"A cow was found in the top of a tree drained of all its blood." Hermione frowned. That was consistent with the other reports in the area. "What else has happened?" Snape asked.

She sat up straighter. She had been waiting for someone to ask her that question for weeks now. "Similar reports of livestock being killed. And one old man who lives by himself has gone missing."

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "A Muggle?"

"What does that matter?" she asked, becoming defensive. People at the Ministry didn't give much credence to a Muggle missing, but she would bet all her Galleons that if it had been a witch or wizard it would be a very different story.

"A wizard would have tried to defend themselves. A wizard would have attracted much more attention from the Ministry than sending one poorly armed Auror."

He had a point; though she loathed admitting it. A Muggle man had warranted almost no attention at all. She had fought long and hard in the war against Voldemort and somedays, (most days) it felt as though it had been for nothing.

"Not to mention, as far as I know I am the only wizard in the area. Not that it matters anyway," he said with a sigh, sitting back. "I shall have to either Obliviate you or move."

"I hear the Caribbean is nice this time of year," Hermione quipped. She didn't like the idea of him using a Memory Charm on her. And she wasn't in any condition to prevent it at the moment. Her only chance would be convincing him she could keep her mouth shut.

"You won't find me in a bathing costume any time soon, Miss Granger."

"Thank Merlin for that," she muttered, trying hard not to picture his lean and pale form in swimming trunks.

"What was that?" he asked sharply.

"There's no need to Obliviate me. I won't tell anyone where you are." He looked at her skeptically. "What good would it do me? You were acquitted."

"That hasn't stopped the Ministry before," Snape argued.

"I have bigger things to worry about than bringing you in on jaywalking," she said sharply. "If you take my memories from me, then no one will be left to investigate what's going on. And if left alone, more than just animals will die, Snape. First, it will be Muggles, and then wizards. Do you want that on your conscience?"

"Don't talk to me about conscience, Miss Granger." His face twisted in anger.

"That's right; I forgot you didn't have one." She regretted it the instant she said it. He had found her, brought her back here, and nursed her back to health. If he had no conscience, he would have just left her for dead. He must have grown one sitting up here on this mountain. He looked like he might kill her now though. He clenched his hands tightly at his sides, and his face drained of what little color it had to start with.

"I'm sorry," she said meekly. "I didn't mean that. I—just—please don't Obliviate me. Someone needs to figure out what's going on." He relaxed at her weak apology, and Hermione suppressed a sigh of relief.

"We'll see," he said. It wasn't a promise either way, but for some reason it made her feel better. It gave her hope that he could be convinced to just let her go home unmolested.

"What is going on exactly?" he asked, continuing on, she noticed, before she could argue anymore on the Obliviate issue.

"I'm not sure, but I have a theory that whoever or whatever is up on that mountain is practicing the Dark Arts, building their strength gradually. If we stop them now, then maybe…" she paused. This had been the part where her partner had told her she was a ridiculous alarmist. "Maybe we can stop another You-Know-Who from gaining power."

Snape nodded. Hermione waited for the harsh words telling her she was silly, paranoid, or too lazy to work on real cases. But they never came.

"Time to eat," he said instead. She watched him float into the kitchen area and start pulling food out of the fridge. "You can set the table," he said over his shoulder. She hobbled over, out of breath by the time she reached the table. Snape either didn't notice or didn't care, his attention fully focused on the potatoes that were peeling themselves over the sink.

"Where's my wand?" she asked. This would be much easier if she could use magic.

"There." He pointed to a side table where her wand lay in two pieces. Hermione cursed. She had bought that wand from Ollivander after her first one snapped in three pieces after the troll incident. It had been such a nice wand, responding to the lightest of touches, the merest of thoughts.

"Better your wand than your neck," Snape said. Somehow, she thought it might have been better if had been the other way around. No one seemed to miss her. She pushed that thought away as quickly as it came. Besides, how could she miss the opportunity to sit and eat a silent dinner with a known murderer? At least he was nice enough to get the plates down for her. She placed them on the table, and then sat down, trying to catch her breath while she watched Snape cook.

The aroma of the meat mingled with the roasting potatoes smelled wonderful. Her stomach growled, but she worried about the Evictus Potion. She finally felt hungry for the first time in days and it would be for naught the minute she took it.

"Bon apetite," Snape said a few minutes later, presenting her with chicken, roasted potatoes and green beans. He poured them some wine, and then sat down. Hermione watched as he tucked right in, shoveling the food into his mouth as though he hadn't seen a meal in a decade. She didn't know what his table manners were like before, but living alone for so long had done little to improve them. He looked up from his plate to notice she hadn't yet touched her fork.

"What's wrong now?" he growled. She suddenly felt ashamed and embarrassed. He probably thought she was being ungrateful or didn't want it because it was from his table.

"I'm not that hungry, actually," she lied. She could feel her cheeks reddening as her stomach betrayed her with a loud grumble.

"I can hear your stomach growling."

"Once I take my potion, it won't matter if I've eaten or not. And frankly, it will be easier if I haven't." He considered her for a moment.

"You've been on two doses a day for a week now. I think it's time we reduced it to one."

"Really?" She looked down at the food, which suddenly held much more promise than it had before.

"Yes, now eat." Hermione didn't argue with him this time.

Maybe it was cowardly but Severus didn't care. He didn't want to think about what Miss Granger had spoken about earlier. Her attack and near death only strengthened her case that a new Dark Lord in training was living just steps away from his doorstep. He had come here to escape the world and the memories that came with it, and now she threatened to ruin that for him. She was ruining everything.

He took a deep breath and concentrated on carving the chicken into tiny pieces, probably with a little more vehemence than was really necessary, but he set Miss Granger to setting the table, hoping she wouldn't notice.

Dinner itself was very quiet, a little too quiet. Now sitting in the living room reading, he wavered back and forth on whether he preferred her silent or talking. His own book was dreadfully boring, and he hoped maybe she could distract him. Normally on a night like this, he would go back to brewing, or get pissed drunk, reminisce about the mistakes he had made in the past, and then pass out on the couch. Perhaps tonight would go better if he had someone to talk to. And if she proved a poor conversationalist he would just insist she go to bed, leaving him in living room in peace as it should be.

"What are you reading?" he asked.

She held up her book for him to see. It was an outdated treatise on some of the rarer and harder to brew potions.

"And what do you think so far?"

He half expected her to raise her hand, but she just let the book drop into her lap and answered, "It tries to make a case for using more intricate potions when really something like Pepperup would do the job."

"With cruder results and less precision," he told her. He sat his own book aside and leaned back in his chair. "If you want the best results then it is better to use one of the potions he mentions."

"But most people can't brew to this standard." Because they were a bunch of dunderheads who had passed notes in his class rather than pay attention. Their own fault then.

"Then buy it." And fund his solitary lifestyle, he thought.

"Too expensive. Cheaper, easier potions are much more practical. Take Pepperup for example…"

Severus listened for the next half hour, interjecting when she said something completely off the mark.

"Well you're just plain wrong. You've been sitting up here in your mountain shack reading theory and not putting any of it into practice," she argued after he had pointed out a flaw in her logic.

"I do quite a bit of brewing. And I resent you calling this is a shack. It was a veritable paradise until you showed up." Severus couldn't help it, but he was starting to enjoy himself. It had been years since he had anyone to talk to, and certainly, no one who could stand her ground like Miss Granger.

"You may brew the potions, but have you used them in any practical applications?"

She had a point, which meant it was time to change tactics.

"Do you think it's best to argue with the man in charge of your rehabilitation?"

"Perhaps I'm hoping to push you over the edge and you'll just put me out of my misery," she answered with a frown. She shifted her legs for the fourth time in two minutes. Severus didn't understand why she wouldn't let him give her the potion that would alleviate it.

"If I haven't by now, then I won't."

"Glutton for punishment?"

"Apparently," he said wryly, taking up his book again. But it was just as boring as it had been an hour ago when he engaged her in conversation. He let out a yawn.

"Time for bed," he announced, noticing that his eyes weren't the only ones starting to droop, and she was blinking more often. They shot wide open at his proclamation, however.

"I'm not sleepy. I'll just read some more and join you later," she said.

"You're falling asleep sitting here." What was she hiding from him? He thought they had gotten past sleeping in the same bed together.

She shook her head. "No, I'm not. Besides, this is a really good book, and I've just got to the interesting part."

Severus placed his hands on her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. He had read that book; the first two chapters were a cure for insomnia, and the rest put the reader into a coma. No, she was stalling and he wanted to know why. Catching her eye, he peeked into her mind.

What he saw was disturbing—images of burning buildings, bloated corpses, and curses flying across a field.

"Stop it," she said, pushing him away. "I know what you're doing!" It was a weak effort, and he easily caught her wrists in his hands.

"Why didn't you tell me about the dreams?" He tugged at her arms to emphasize his point. He couldn't help her if she didn't tell him everything. She grimaced in pain, and he relaxed his hold.

"When did I have the chance?" she accused him. Tears sprung to her eyes. She did have a point. She hadn't been awake any longer than absolutely necessary in the past week, but that didn't justify hiding it from him today when she was awake.

"And your solution was to just not sleep?" he retorted, dropping her hands. She turned her head away from him, letting out a harrumph. Her hands fisted into the couch cushions, her knuckles turning right. Severus could see that she was trying to regulate her breathing. He turned on his heel, leaving her there. He suffered from nightmares on a regular basis and always kept a large supply of Dreamless Sleep Potion around.

He poured a small amount into a cup and took it back to her. "Here," he said, holding it out to her.

"I told you I didn't want it!" She looked up at him with her eyes flashing. "I keep seeing things, horrible things." Her voice wavered. "Sometimes I know it's just a dream, but no matter how hard I try, I can't wake up."

"It must be a side effect of the Dark magic inside you. It is designed to make you miserable in every possible way."

"They're memories," she whispered. He nodded. He understood. The war had been brutal for everyone involved, but being so close to the action, so close to Potter, and at such a tender age must have scarred her for life. It had been the same for him at her age.

He took her hand and placed the cup in it, wrapping his fingers around hers to grip it tightly. "It's Dreamless Sleep," he told her.

She looked up at him, taking the cup on her own. "How do you know it will work?"

"I don't, but it's worth a try. Drink it." Finally, she complied, taking a sip. She wrinkled her nose at the bitter taste. He glared at her until she finished it, her eyes drifting close two seconds after she drained the cup. Severus kicked himself. Now he would have to carry her back into the bedroom. In the future, he would be sure to make her walk into the bedroom and then give her any and all potions. Although hopefully he wouldn't have to worry about it for much longer.

He let out a martyred sigh that was wasted on her sleeping form, and picked her up. Taking her into the bedroom, he laid her down and tucked her in. She looked so small and vulnerable, not at all like the fiery young woman he had seen while awake. Seemingly, on its own volition his hand reached out and brushed back the curls from her face. She still looked sickly, too pale and gaunt. That was the problem with the Evictus Potion—it rid the body of the Dark magic, but it also purged it of everything else that might help her gain back her strength.

She gave a small sigh, startling him. He drew back his hand as she turned over on her side. What was he doing? He took care of the girl for a week and she started to get to him. Well, she would be leaving soon. He would make sure of that.

The next morning Hermione awoke to find the space in the bed next to her empty. But leaning up against the bedside table was a beautifully carved cane. A note lay on the table.

_Because I'm tired of carrying you around_, it read. _Now use it get to the bathroom and bathe. You're starting to smell. _

Hermione didn't know whether to be offended or laugh out loud. She sniffed. He was right. She took the cane and hobbled into the bathroom. A claw foot tub stood in the corner, steam rising from it. It smelled faintly of rose petals, and she wondered if that was especially for her or if Snape liked to smell of flowers. She smiled—she had slept next to him for the last week or so. It was definitely for her.

Stripping down, she threw the oversized robes he had dressed her in and climbed in. The warm water instantly relaxed and soothed her sore muscles. She scrubbed every inch and washed her hair twice with the bottle of shampoo on the side, smirking at the thought that Lavender and Parvati's eternal question had been answered.

She stayed in until the water cooled and her fingers wrinkled. If she had her wand she would have warmed it up and stayed in longer, but without it she was forced out. Snape had left her a clean pile of robes to change into. Frowning at the faded black material, she shrugged them on. The sleeves were a bit too long, but she could roll those up. Unfortunately, there was nothing to be done about how the rest of it hung on her. She might as well be wearing a sack, but she felt better and that what was important.

"You're looking better," Snape said when she came out into the living area. He sat at the table drinking a cup of tea and reading the paper. Hermione could tell from across the room that there was still no news about the events going on here. Instead, a man on a broom flew across the front with a Quaffle in his hand.

"It's amazing what a good night's sleep and a hot bath will do. Better than any potion," she said enthusiastically. Perhaps a bit too much, judging by the look on his face. "Not that I don't like—I mean—thank you for the potions…and the bath," she stuttered. What was it about Severus Snape that reduced her to a bumbling idiot? She felt like a silly schoolgirl around him. Everything that came out of her mouth turned out wrong.

"You're quite talented at sticking your foot in your mouth. At least it's clean now," he said with a smirk, laying the paper aside. The bastard probably enjoyed her discomfort. Well, two could play at that game. She ignored the comment, pretending to sniff the air around him.

"What are you doing?" he snapped.

"No rose scent, so either you haven't bathed recently or that was entirely for my benefit," she teased.

"Rose oil is a common potions ingredient, which you would have known if you had ever paid attention in my class," he said. "And I thought you might appreciate it." The last part was so quiet Hermione almost missed it.

"Oh, I do. Thank you," she assured him. "And I think I will be able to go home soon, possibly even tomorrow," she said. She desperately wanted to get back to her own apartment and her own bed. And she needed to get back on her case. The fact that she was attacked would be enough evidence to get a team of Aurors up here, rather than just one, and the sooner the better.

"We'll see," was all he said. She nodded, taking up the paper. An article on how to bewitch your party guests with appetizers inspired her stomach to start rumbling. Looking down at it, she hoped breakfast this morning was light. She still had her potion to take.

"I think you'll find this one more interesting," he said, sliding another paper across the table. The pictures on this one stayed firmly in place.

"A Muggle paper?"

He nodded. Hermione placed the _Daily Prophet_ down and took up the _Glas Stob_ with a quizzical look.

"It means grey peak," Snape answered before she could ask. He set a bowl and spoon down in front of her.

"An apt description." It looked like someone was paying attention. Too bad it was no one who could do anything about it. An editorial blamed devil worshippers but the contributing reporter thought it was probably just some teenagers up to their normal mischief.

"Even the Muggles aren't taking it seriously," she said with frown. She pushed the paper away in favor of the oatmeal Snape had brought her. "How are disappearances and dead livestock the work of adolescents?"

"You and your friends managed much worse in your time." Hermione's head snapped up to see him scowling at her, one eyebrow raised as though challenging her to disagree.

"We were fighting against the forces of evil."

"Which only you were qualified to do."

She set her spoon down. An angry blush crept up her neck. Of all the people! But it was just like him. He had spent six years trying to get Harry expelled from school, probably so Voldemort could kill him.

"If we want to talk about misdeeds of the past, we're eventually going to arrive at yours, which are much worse than sneaking out after curfew." She didn't wait for his response but turned her attention back to her bowl. Gripping the spoon tightly, she tried to ignore the fact that he still stood there staring at her, most likely seething. This oatmeal was a horrible idea, she thought, thinking of later.

"I think you _will_ be ready to go home tomorrow," he said. His voice remained tight and restrained, but she could imagine he felt anger at her perceived ungratefulness. Well, she was grateful. Thank you, sir, for saving my life, but that didn't mean she had to sit here and listen to him go on about things that happened years ago. Hadn't he left the past behind, moving into this small shack in the middle of nowhere? Well, she had let it go too, and she didn't want to think about it.

The swish of his robes that let Hermione know he had left the table, and she heaved a sigh of relief. You could cut the tension here with a knife, certainly not an atmosphere suitable to recuperation in her mind.

A few minutes later, he returned, slamming a potion bottle down on the table. The glass clinked against the wood but didn't break. Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin, however.

"I'm not finished eating," she protested weakly, knowing it was futile.

"Do you really think that's a wise idea?" She could hear the sneer in his voice even as she maintained her steady gaze on her cereal bowl. He Conjured a bucket and placed it on the floor next to her.

"I don't have all day, Miss Granger." She looked up at him then. He towered over in his black robes, his sneering face, and she almost laughed. He looked the part of the evil Death Eater, but here he was with her, a Muggleborn, nursing her back to health.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked.

"Because it is time for you to take it. Stop asking silly questions and drink it."

"No, I mean why are you helping me?"

"Because you needed help. Now, are you going to require 'help' to drink this? I assure you it won't be pleasant."

Hermione gave up. There was no talking to the man. "At least one question has been answered today," she said with sarcasm.

"And what is that?" he ground out.

"Does Professor Snape use shampoo? The answer is yes, though what's in there is much too heavy for your silky locks."

"Silky?" He looked at her skeptically.

"Well, not now. Now it's stringier than silky, but with a lighter formula it could be." She wondered if she continued in this vein if he might forget that she needed to take her potion. Besides, she imagined he could look quite nice if his hair wasn't so bad. And if he smiled instead of smirked and she squinted.

"I think the curse has addled your brain," pushing the goblet into her hand.

She took it and downed it quickly. It wasn't so bad at first. She felt warm and tingly all over, but as it settled in and worked its magic, her stomach began to churn and she knew her face turned a lovely shade of green. When she finished, she leaned back in her chair. Snape Vanished the bucket, and set another potion in front of her.

"What's this?" She thought they had agreed she wasn't to be drugged into oblivion just so he could have some peace.

"A Strengthening Potion. Unfortunately, the Evictus Potion has the side effect of purging your system of good things, like valuable nutrients that you need. I'm adding it to your regimen." She nodded and drank it too. The instant effect was amazing. She didn't think she could do laps around the room, but she certainly thought she might make it from the table to the couch, maybe even without her new cane, and she told him as much. He only smirked at her.

"The effects decrease over time, and you must be careful not to become addicted to it." She nodded, barely listening. Standing up, she took a few experimental steps on her own. She wobbled a bit, but Snape handed her cane in time enough to prevent from toppling over.

"A few more days and I won't even need this!" she exclaimed. She had never felt this good after taking her potion. Her mood lifted at the thought of being well, completely and fully. She hadn't been sure that was possible until now. Hope sprang up in her, and reminded her that she had a job to do. "I have to go home tomorrow. I need to check back in with work."

He only nodded. She worried about his promise to consider not Obliviating her. Would he keep it?

It didn't surprise Severus that Hermione Granger was a workaholic. She had been one in school and now she couldn't wait to get back to the Ministry—not her family, not her irritating friends, but her co-workers. On one level, they were very much alike. They both preferred the company of parchments or potions to keep them company. Although, he hadn't minded her company too much as long as they stayed away from either one of their pasts. He had brewed potions yesterday afternoon while she read, and like the night before he had quizzed her later over what she had learned. It had almost been 'fun.' Except, of course, that such words were never associated with him.

Now, he packed what little stuff she had to take with her. He had thrown away the robes she had worn when he found her, and her wand had snapped in two. There wasn't much besides her potions. To minimize his contact with the rest of the world, he decided to give her a spare wand he had lying around. He had been to London for her once already. He was confident she could make it home without him.

"Are you going to Obliviate me?" she asked when he presented her with the small bundle. He shook his head.

"I've decided you've been through enough." She sighed in relief, but he continued on. This point was crucial to him letting her go free. "But if word gets out about my whereabouts, Miss Granger, I assure you that the curse you have suffered will look like a scraped knee compared to what I will do to you."

She nodded. "I understand."

"Let us hope so," he said gravely.

"Thank you." She paused as though there was more. "For saving my life," she finished.

Severus just nodded. What did one say to a person in this situation? "Anytime." As though he went around saving lives all the time? He certainly hoped they wouldn't keep meeting like this. Though now that she was preparing to leave he did wonder what it might be like to meet Hermione Granger again under different circumstances. If he was anyone else, he might have tried to track her down and 'bump' into her at Flourish and Blotts. But that was out of the question.

She turned to leave, and then back again.

"Forget something?" he asked with a sneer.

Hermione nodded, and then she tilted her head up and kissed him on the mouth. It wasn't more than a soft brushing of lips against lips, lasting no more than a second. And then with a pop she Apparated away. Severus reached up with one hand, covering the spot where she had touched him. He wondered if he would ever see her again. And if he did, would he hex her for her temerity or kiss her back.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

_"I am now quite cured of seeking pleasure in society, be it country or town. A sensible man ought to find sufficient company in himself."_

Hermione didn't know why she did it. She hadn't planned on kissing Snape, but she felt that she hadn't properly displayed her gratitude—for saving her life, for not Obliviating her, and almost more importantly, for not discounting her worry about what might be lurking on that mountainside. He was the lone person who hadn't mocked her, a surprise given his apparent amusement for such things when she had been his student. How that translated into leaning up and kissing him, however, she wasn't sure. After doing it, she had quickly Apparated away to the safety of her apartment.

The exertion of Apparition left her weak and gasping for air. She sat down on the couch to catch her breath, and organize her thoughts. It didn't matter that she had kissed Snape. It didn't matter that she had enjoyed it and wondered what it might be like to do it again, because she would never see him again. What mattered was that she had a job to do.

Getting to her feet, she checked to see if she had any mail. A small pile of envelopes sat under the mail slot at the door. Somebody had missed her after all, but upon closer inspection she found nothing but bills, her monthly subscription to a Charms magazine, and an advertisement for Witch Weekly. She decided to check her voicemail next.

_"Hermione, dear, where have you been? Your father and I got back from Greece this morning. Lovely weather there, dear. You really should come with us next time. Come over soon and see the pictures. They don't move like yours do but the scenery is breathtaking regardless. Call before you come!"_

_"Herminny Granger, this message is to inform you that you have won a spectacular vacation to Spain! Please call the following number to…" _

She erased them both. Her parents missed her, not because they had noticed she had gone missing, but because it had been nearly two months since she had talked to them.

The tinny voice of the message woman telling her that the messages had been deleted faded into silence. Had her apartment always been so quiet? Normally she liked the silence. It was nice after a stressful day of work to settle down with dinner, a glass of wine, and a good book. But somehow, now it was different. There was no clinking of potions bottles or Snape cursing under her breath in the background. No crackling fire or anyone to ask her what she had read.

'No weight in the bed beside me. No touch of his lips against mine,' she thought.

She pushed thoughts of Snape and his soft lips from her mind. Fishing out one of the potion bottles in the small bundle Snape had given her, Hermione took a sip of the Strengthening Potion. She had taken some earlier in the day and probably shouldn't take anymore until after dinner, but she needed some extra help if she was going to make it into the office today. And besides, it wasn't a whole dose, she told herself, as she reached for her cane. Hobbling to the fireplace, she threw in some Floo powder and called out the lobby for the Ministry of Magic.

She walked as quickly as she could with her cane, making it to the lifts just as the last one left. With an impatient sigh, she tapped her foot, waiting for the next one.

"Hermione!" Abby exclaimed. "Where have you been?" Hermione turned to see Abby Peters walking up, a woman she had occasionally gone out with after work for a few drinks. She might have called her a friend, but she was really more an acquaintance, somebody to share the office gossip with, but she sounded worried, and it was heartening to know that someone had noticed her disappearance—had done nothing about it, but at least she had noticed. It was something.

"Something attacked me on my latest case. I've been convalescing with Sn—in some shack the last three weeks," Hermione explained.

"You look like you still need some rest. You're very pale," Abby said, looking her up and down, shifting the large pile of files in her arms from one hip to the other. Hermione wondered for the first time how she must look. Snape didn't have many mirrors in his tiny house, and with the history of her hair, she might look a complete fright. "And what are you wearing?"

Hermione looked down to realize she hadn't changed out of the baggy black robes Snape had lent her.

"Nothing," she said, her cheeks reddening a bit in embarrassment. Not that she was a slave to fashion, but she generally put a little more effort into her appearance than this. It didn't help that Abby looked flawless as always in rose robes that perfectly complemented her creamy complexion and shiny brown hair. She reminded herself that she had a job to do, and it didn't matter what she looked like.

Abby raised her eyebrows, but didn't push her further as the lift finally arrived. "Well, you haven't missed much here," she said, getting on. "Danbury is dating that girl from the Misuse of Magic office; you know the dumpy red-head? And Peter and Wendy broke up. Had a large row in the lobby about it, actually—she accused him of not wanting to grow up."

She talked even as a few files fell off the top of her pile, merely lifting her wand with her free hand and floating them back to where they belonged. Hermione gripped her cane tighter. She didn't care about office dating when she had things that were more important on her mind.

"That sounds interesting, Abby. And we'll have to get together soon so you can tell me the rest, but I've really got to see Eckhert before he goes to lunch," Hermione said as the door opened on her floor.

Getting off, she didn't even stop at her desk, but went straight to the corner office where her boss, Titus Eckhert worked. His secretary stood guard outside. A typewriter clicked on the desk behind her, the papers flying off of it to seal themselves into envelopes while she turned the pages of a romance novel with long red fingernails. Hermione had never liked her.

"Is he in?" Hermione asked. The woman glanced up with an impatient look, but it turned nearly feral when she saw who it was.

"Oh, he'll see you," she said with a wicked smile. She clicked the small button for the intercom. "Hermione Granger to see you, sir."

"Send her in," a gruff voice answered back. The secretary nodded at Hermione.

"Good luck," she said in a sugary sweet voice. "You're going to need it."

Hermione scowled. She had evidence this time. Proof he couldn't discount. She had been brutally attacked, and he couldn't ignore her this time. Straightening her back, she entered the office and readied herself to lay out all the facts. But Eckhert didn't give her a chance.

"Where have you been, Granger?" he barked. She winced to hear it, knowing that more would follow.

"I went up north to investigate the disappearance of that Muggle man along with the killings of the livestock. It turned out I was right, there was something going on, I was attacked with a…"

"I don't care where you've been or what you've been doing. You disobeyed my direct orders and missed over three weeks of work. There are more important cases!" His face turned red and his mustache twitched. It was a look Hermione knew too well. "You're suspended without pay!"

"What?" she asked stunned. There were more important cases to solve, but yet he wanted to pull her off of them? "But sir, I have evidence of…" She lifted her cane for emphasis.

"No more, Granger. Any more stunts like this and I'll make it permanent. Now get out of my office."

Hermione turned and stomped out the room, seething. She ignored the quiet cackling of the Eckhert's secretary as she walked by, and tried not cry in frustration. Didn't anyone believe her? Stopping by her desk, she gathered all the files she had on the livestock killings up north. If she couldn't work on it officially, then she would do it unofficially. Starting this morning, she had plenty of time. She couldn't believe Eckhert had suspended her.

Her partner sat at the desk across from hers. "Where have you been?" he asked, though he didn't sound very interested. He barely looked up from the paperwork he was reading.

"Being attacked by something lurking on the side of a mountain in Scotland," she said, waiting for some sort of reaction. It was a futile effort, and she knew it. Roberts just sat there.

"You missed testifying in the Avery case. Eckhert was livid. Don't worry, though I covered your ass."

Hermione scowled. "Thanks," she said with little sincerity. Roberts never did anything unless it made him look good. He must have been giddy with pleasure to humiliate her. "You'll have to cover for me some more because I've just been suspended."

He frowned at her. With her gone, he might actually have to work, though Hermione doubted it, Roberts had a talent for pushing his work onto others.

"Until when?" he asked.

"I don't know. He didn't say." And then she left, winding her way through the maze of desks back to the lift and the front lobby with its many fireplaces.

Severus had hoped that with Hermione gone, the house would return to normal. But instead, it was silent as a tomb. Had it always been this quiet? He tried brewing some potions. He had a particularly difficult one that Saren had ordered, but only an hour into it, he had reached the waiting stage. It would be three days before he could do any more work on it.

Reading was a futile effort he found. And tending to his greenhouse was unnecessary with most of the plants needing less care during the winter period. He hated to admit it, but three hours after Miss Granger had left and already he missed her. Missed the soft snores that reassured him she still lived and the fiery way she argued with him that made him wish she hadn't.

'Or the way her lips had felt those precious few seconds they had touched his,' his mind whispered.

'This is ridiculous!' he scolded himself. She had been a bother, a nuisance, and nothing more. He was happy to have his house back to himself, which was why he needed to get out of it. Miss Granger's attack had awakened a fear in him. Whatever was up there threatened his solitude. He decided that it merited looking into.

Walking into town, he found a small telephone booth outside of the pub. He flipped through until he found the name of the family farm whose cow had been mutilated. He figured a quick Disillusionment Charm and he could peek around a bit. The address turned out to be only a few miles outside of town.

He Apparated there easily enough, though the charm was a bit trickier. Too many years had passed since he had been a spy. Not that he had ever really needed it for the Dark Lord or Albus. Both sides eagerly told him most everything. The peril had come in deciding how much to give to the other side. The skulking about only came in when he tried to catch wayward students out after curfew, and then he had the shadows and many hiding places in Hogwarts to help him. This was a whole new experience for him.

He lifted his wand, thought the charm, and instantly felt a cold chill. That seemed right, though it could have been the wind. Tree branches danced above him and there was a whistle in the air. He hoped it worked. The small stone house sat off the road. Trees lined the drive and the field that sat to the side. Severus decided to stay among them just in case the Disillusionment Charm failed.

'Constant vigilance,' Old Auror Moody's cry echoed through his head. He had hated the man—never trusted that Snape's redemption was real. Of course, after he killed the headmaster, no one believed in him. But that was hardly relevant to the here and now.

Moving quickly, he took the long way round to the back of the house. The shade the trees provided hid him well from the few Muggles he saw standing round the house. A lorry sat out front loaded with hay. Behind the house stood a large barn that led out to a field where both sheep and cows roamed aimlessly.

He had a decision to make. Move out into the open where he might be spotted if someone looked directly at him or Apparate directly into the barn. He went with the second option. Focusing on the inside of the outbuilding, he popped out of existence and…landed in a pile of manure.

"Bloody hell!" he cursed, remembering too late that he was supposed to be incognito. Luckily, only the cow whose stall he had landed in heard him. Its startled moos echoed through the wooden walls. He scowled at the muck now stuck to the bottom of his shoes and along the edge of his robes and wished his nose wasn't quite so large or so adept.

With little grace, he climbed out of the stall. Looking around, he didn't see much more than cows. Lots of cows. A quick spell revealed that no Dark magic had been present recently, which made sense considering it had been over a week since they had found the cow up that tree. He wasn't sure he knew what he expected to find here.

Voices interrupted his musings, prompting him to scurry back into the stall he'd just come out of. His new bovine friend nudged him, upset at this second intrusion. He pushed it away, trying to kneel down so that whoever was out there wouldn't see him.

"Ever catch the kids who killed your cow?" he heard a man ask. The cow pushed his head into Severus's chest, pinning him against the wall. He pushed back, trying to make as little noise as possible. At least the damn thing didn't make any noise, thanks to his Silencing Spell earlier.

"Not yet. Mum seems to think it's not anything earthly that did that to 'ol Nellie."

Severus' ears perked up, wondering if maybe the Muggles had any information the paper had neglected to mention.

"A ghost?" the other man said with a laugh. It was an idea Snape hadn't considered. He didn't think there were any ghosts in the area. It wouldn't be normal, but then the paranormal rarely was. Maybe a poltergeist.

"Or the devil." Closer to the truth than he might realize if it turned out to be a former Death Eater, Severus thought, pushing away the cow's head once again. Bloody troublesome animal! It was determined to eat the buttons right off of his robes.

"You think a little red man with a forked tail and a pitchfork killed your cow?" The other man sounded skeptical.

"No, but I know there were other strange things that day—the sun was shining and then all of sudden it wasn't. And there was this eerie quiet, then I heard Nellie squealing, but no one could find her." Severus could hear that they were walking towards where he hid. He pushed the cow away, and ducked behind its back legs.

"We looked for over an hour and then she just showed up in that tree. We must have walked by it five times and never saw her," the man continued.

"Sounds like you need an appointment with the eye doctor not an exorcist." He slapped his friend on the back, and they left. Severus looked down at his robes, now covered in manure. He looked bad and smelled worse. Dodging a kick from his new friend, he Apparated home. He didn't care what was on that hillside. From now on, he would be leaving the investigating to Miss Granger.

The ride home through the fireplace left Hermione breathless. Collapsing as she landed on the floor, she struggled to come back to standing, but she managed it, her anger fueling her. She was right, and she could prove it. She would make them listen. The future of the Wizarding world was in her hands and there was not time to waste. She was going back there.

Gathering up her files, she placed them in an overnight bag. She tried to use the wand Snape had loaned her to pack her robes, but they kept trying to fly out the window instead of into her bag. Tears sprung to her eyes as her frustration level reached a new high. Not even her clothes listened to her.

"No, over here, you stupid things," she yelled, trying in vain to direct them. Finally giving up on magic, she realized a trip to Ollivander's was in order before she went anywhere. After finally wrestling her clothes into the bag, she took the rest of her Strengthening Potion and climbed back into the fireplace.

She took one last look at her apartment, dirty now from her failed attempts to pack her bag with magic. Two robes still sat on the windowsill next to her potted plants. The books she bought recently but hadn't read yet sat on her coffee table. The mail sat in a scattered pile under the mail slot. She had looked forward to coming home, and then had only spent maybe twenty minutes here before leaving again. For one long moment, she contemplated crawling into bed and letting the world unravel without her. But then she remembered Harry and what he had fought for. Remembered all those she had loved who hadn't survived the war. She couldn't let that happen again. Tossing in the powder she called out, "Diagon Allery."

The trip through the Floo left her dizzy and gasping for air. Tom in the Leaky Cauldron had to help her to a chair. He left her to get her a butterbeer while she composed herself. A sandwich, chips, and another butterbeer later and she finally felt ready to move on. She hobbled down Diagon Alley to Ollivander's shop.

"I can't choose the best wand for a person without him being here," Ollivander was telling a tall skinny man when she came in. She recognized him from the International Magical Affairs Commission. He came and went from Eckhert's office from time to time in regards to international crimes. Barney something or other…

"I need that wand," the other man. He had a high-pitched voice for a man, almost reedy, and he sounded desperate to Hermione. She knew the feeling. It was horrible being without a proper wand.

"Come back with your brother and we'll get him set up," Ollivander insisted. "But now I must attend to…Miss Granger—willow, unicorn hair, eleven and a half inches, am I right?"

"Not anymore," she said with a frown. The other customer stepped back and forth, shifting his foot from foot to foot. "But I don't want to interrupt, you and Mr…?"

"Barry Barnett," he said, holding out his hand. Hermione took it reluctantly. Dropping it suddenly, he turned back to Mr. Ollivander. "I can't bring my brother in. He's stuck in Translyvania fighting off vampires at the moment. His back up wand snapped in two when some pointy tooth freak bit it in half! I just need a replacement to send him."

"I suggest he orders from one of those Belgian catalogs, then," Ollivander said. "But I refuse to sell a wand to someone who isn't here to buy it. My reputation could be ruined if someone saw them using it and it performed poorly." Barnett left in a huff, pushing past Hermione so that she had to grip her cane tighter to keep from falling over.

"Sorry about that. Now how can I help you?" Ollivander said. "Wait," he held up his hand, "you had an accident and your wand broke." Hermione nodded sheepishly. The cane was a giveaway.

"Trolls?"

"Not this time," she said. "Something worse, I'm afraid, though I'm not exactly sure who or what attacked me. I need a good defense wand."

"I should say so." He looked at her with a look of concern, but his eyes still lit up in the same way Hermione imagined they always did when he helped a customer. Forty-five minutes later, she had a new wand. Rosewood, dragon heartstring, twelve inches, and it was perfect.

Severus found that a simple cleaning spell wasn't enough to rid himself of the "barn" smell he had acquired. He cursed Miss Granger, cows, and whatever was up on that bloody mountain as he undressed and climbed in the bath. The robe would have to go. There was no getting the smell off of it. He scrubbed so hard the water sloshed over the sides, leaving his skin pink from the effort. But he felt cleaner, and that was something.

Reaching for the shampoo, he stared intently at the ingredients. Hermione had said something about it being too heavy for his thin hair. He scoffed, as if he cared about what some stupid Auror thought about his hair. She could hardly talk with her mane of unmanageable locks. He decided he didn't need to wash his hair. It smelled fine and he had just washed it yesterday.

He slammed the shampoo bottle down on the ledge, causing the small vial next to it to topple over in the water. Severus cursed again louder this time. It was the rose oil from Hermione's bath. Now instead of smelling like muck mire, he smelled of flowers. It was disgusting! He couldn't escape her even without her here. He cursed Miss Granger again, before getting out and searching out his stash of firewhisky.

An hour later, drunk and melancholy, he lounged on his sofa and wished he had someone to talk with. Even Miss Granger arguing with him would do. But she had only been here because she had no other choice. If given the opportunity again, he doubted she would choose to spend her evenings arguing potions theory with a crusty old murderer with stringy hair. And she would be right. He had killed Albus. His hair was greasy. These were the sorts of things women held against men.

He couldn't change the first thing. And if he had the choice to do it all again, he felt sure he would make the same decision. It was his life or Dumbledore's that night. Dumbledore or Draco. He knew the headmaster. Knew he didn't fear death, knew he expected Severus to choose life for himself. Youth and hope had won out over age and infirmity. But no one had seen that battle. They chose to see only Death Eaters against the Order of the Phoenix. Black and white. Good and evil.

'Yes, I would do it again,' he told himself.

He only wished that was true. It might have been better if he had broken the Vow, but Dumbeldore's death had invigorated the Wizarding world to fight the Dark Lord. Draco survived intact. Albus had gone on to his next big adventure. The only casualty it seemed was him. He took another swig of firewhisky. The alcohol burned the back of his throat, reminding him he was alive.

Standing up, he swayed on his feet. He made his way over to the kitchen area, where his cauldrons were set up. One cauldron bubbled away, the scent of seaweed wafting up. Severus grabbed a potions manual, flipping though until he found a shampoo recipe. He gathered the ingredients and threw them in haphazardly, too drunk to care. It was a simple potion that took only half and hour to make. He sipped from his bottle in between stirs. When it was finished, he bottled it up and took it into the bathroom.

'Here goes,' he thought, pouring out the purplish liquid into his palm. He couldn't change the fact that he had killed the headmaster. Hell, he had killed more than just Dumbledore. Lily died because of him. He had sacrificed Emmeline Vance to maintain his cover as a spy, and countless others died while he stood by and did nothing. He couldn't change his past. However, he could change his hair.

Hermione left Ollivander's utterly drained. She sipped her Strengthening Potion, ducking into a dark alleyway behind the Leaky Cauldron. Even with it, there was no way she could Apparate back to Scotland. There were no fireplaces on the Floo network anywhere near where she needed to be. And a broomstick was out of the question. Picking through the trash, she found a butterbeer bottle.

"_Portus_," she whispered, afraid someone might hear her making an unlicensed portkey.

Two minutes later, she felt a tug at her navel. She dropped into an alley behind the local hotel. Clutching her cane, she struggled to her feet and made her way out front.

"Back again?" the woman at the front desk asked her when Hermione requested a single room.

"Excuse me?" she asked. She had Apparated back and forth during the investigation before.

"I saw you poking around before," the woman accused Hermione, her curling into a frown. "There isn't anything here for you to see. I'd suggest you go back to where you came from."

"Are you refusing to rent me a room?" Hermione asked indignantly.

The clerk pushed the key across the desk. Hermione went to reach for it, but the woman kept it covered with her hand. "I'm just trying to warn you. This isn't the place you want to be right now." She shrugged and pulled back her hand.

"This is exactly where I want to be right now," Hermione insisted, grabbing the key and heading for the stairs.

Severus peeked through heavy lidded eyes. The sharp glare of the sunshine pierced his brain, reverberating through his head. He remembered why he tried to avoid inebriation. He remembered every time a little too late. Dragging himself from bed, he stumbled into the bathroom to find a headache potion. He found it in the medicine cabinet. Taking a big swig, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the small mirror.

Purple. His hair was purple.

What the bloody hell had he put in that potion last night? He rushed out into the kitchen. An empty bottle of Murex sat on the workbench. Picking it up, he threw it across the room. The glass shattered, making him feel slightly better.

He hated Miss Granger. He hated her more than the Dark Lord, Harry Potter, and Brussels sprouts combined. She had driven him to this. He had been comfortably miserable before she came round. He brewed his potions in peace. He read his books. He cooked and cleaned in his small shack. He didn't think about lips, or curls the color of honey, and he certainly didn't dye his hair purple. Another few vials broken and he felt much better, but just to protect the rest of his glassware, he decided to take a walk.

He needed the distraction. Brewing any more potions was out of the question at the moment, and he didn't feel like reading at the moment, although eventually he would have to find a recipe to counteract what he had done to his hair. He changed into his customary black robes, grabbed his cloak, and made his way out into the cold.

Snowflakes settled on his shoulders and in his hair. He blew on his hands, rubbing them together to keep them warm, and wishing he had brought his fur lined mittens with him. He wandered aimlessly for over thirty minutes, through the woods and up the hill. Suddenly, the wind changed and he caught a whiff of rose petals, reminding him of the one person he was trying to forget.

He clenched his fists and closed his eyes. Walking in the opposite direction, he tried to get away from the roses until he remembered it was him that smelled of it, from the bath last night. Damn Miss Granger. He stopped short and considered his options. Looking around, he realized he was close to the area he had found her prone and near death. He remembered her pale form lying in the snow, pity overtaking him. It wasn't her fault he was in such a mess. Whoever had done that to her was to blame. With new determination, he headed to where he had found her.

Why hadn't he thought to investigate this area yesterday instead of mucking about in a cow stall? The closer and closer he got to the site where he found her the more he felt an oppressive dark feeling. At one point, he thought it might be better to turn back. He didn't want to end up like Miss Granger, but he felt compelled to continue on.

If he went just a bit further he might discover what it was that had attacked her. If he caught the culprit, he could be a hero. They would welcome him back to London with open arms. They might appoint him headmaster of Hogwarts. The thoughts drove his fears to the back of his mind, and tempted him forward.

Something was on that mountain, and he was going to find out what it was.

A shadow moved in the trees in front of him. Severus slowed to a stop and drew his wand. The crack of a branch rang through the air. Suddenly, a flash of yellow light jumped out of the bushes, hitting the bush behind him. Severus bit back a yelp and cast a Disarming Spell.

"Come out here and face me, you coward!" he yelled, dodging another spell. It missed most of him, catching him on the hand. Standing his ground, he threw two more curses in the direction of his opponent.

A bolt of red hit him in the chest. Falling back, he landed hard on the cold ground. As the blackness overtook him, he thought he heard a woman's voice cutting through the descending fog, though he could have been dreaming. He rather hoped he was.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

_May your mercy come quickly to meet us, for we are in desperate need._  
Psalms 79:8

Hermione bolted up in bed the next morning, the slip of another horrific dream fading away. Gasping for air, she groped around on the bed table for her Strengthening Potion. She gulped it down, sighing as she felt it work its way through her body. With a stretch of her legs, she finally climbed out of bed.

Pulling out her clothes, she chose a pair of jeans and a thick jumper. The last time she had avoided Muggles, but that would be impossible now. She needed to interview townspeople and it would be best to blend in.

She considered her reflection in the small mirror over the ancient dresser. There were dark circles under her eyes and her skin was as pale as sheet. No wonder the woman downstairs had tried her best to convince her not to stay. She looked positively frightening.

She hadn't brought any makeup with her, having packed in such a hurry, and the fact that she didn't often wear it. Makeup was for special occasions only. But if she wanted anyone to talk to her rather than running in the other direction screaming "ghost!" something had to be done.

She bit her lip, trying to remember the spells she had seen Lavender and Parvati use in school as they sat in the safety of their curtained beds and giggled until their sides ached. Hermione had watched in utter disdain while she tried to read. That was before…well, before. It was no use, she couldn't remember. Clear lip-gloss was all she could manage. Tying her hair back, she cast a strong Locking Charm and headed downstairs.

"You here to check out?" the clerk at the desk asked as Hermione walked through the lobby. She didn't bother to answer, just shook her head and carried on. Out on the street, she debated which direction to take when her stomach let out a large growl.

'To the left it is,' she thought, heading towards the small café on the corner. Inside sat a few older women talking over their teacups, one middle-aged man with a paper, and a mother of three at the counter buying pastries to go.

Hermione chose a table by the window so she could watch people pass, and ordered a cup of tea with a muffin. Half an hour later she had learned nothing more than the latest cricket scores, the local Wesley girl could sing better than any Charlotte Church, and that there weren't that many people out walking this time of day. The muffin had been good though. She waved her arm for the check when something caught her ear.

"Have you seen Mr. Danielson lately?" one of the older women asked casually.

"You mean Colin?" her friend asked, waggling an eyebrow at her.

"I haven't seen him in over two weeks now," another said. She sounded worried. Hermione wondered what had happened to him. One Muggle had already gone missing. Now there might be another!

"I think he told Melinda down at the grocer's he was going to see his daughter in Edinburgh," the eyebrow waggler said, having finished giving her friend a hard time.

"I thought he visited her in the summer usually?"

"Here's your check," the waitress said, laying it on the table. "That will be £6. 34."

Hermione bit back a curse, and fumbled with her bag. By the time she had paid her bill, the women had moved on to discussing what color looked the best on the infamous Colin. Blue, as it matched his eyes. It wasn't much to go on, but she stored the information away in the back of her brain just in case it came in handy later.

Knowing she would learn nothing more, she headed back out into the street. The best place to start, she realized, would be the last place she knew for certain the culprit had been. A shiver slithered down her spine. That was, of course, the same place she had been attacked. It was dangerous and stupid to go alone. But who else did she have? And if she didn't stop them, then no one would.

She pulled out her bottle of Strengthening Potion, the decision made. Snape had warned her about becoming addicted, but one little sip to help her to her destination wouldn't hurt. Pouring two drops down her throat, she instantly felt the difference.

With a pop, she Apparated to a small clearing in the woods. This was where she had started the last time. Just seeing it and knowing what had happened then made her nervous. Gray clouds loomed overhead, white flakes drifting lazily down and landing on her shoulders and in her hair. The hair on the back of her neck stood straight up as the wind rustled through her coat. She pulled her wand out, looking around. Nothing was there.

Suddenly, a shout rang out. Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin. It sounded like a man. The familiar sound of curses pinged through the air. She hurried as fast as she could with her cane. Coming into a clearing she saw Snape lying on the ground motionless with his eyes closed. A sense of dread overcame her. He looked dead. A scream welled up and out of her, and she charged the trees, throwing out hex after hex.

Whatever had attacked Snape had left, the rustle of tree branches fading away in the distance. In its wake, there was nothing but curse scarred trees. Hermione looked back and forth from the retreating figure to where Snape lay on the ground. This was her one chance. She had to go after whatever it was.

But then she looked at Snape. There was a bit of blood trickling from his nose, and his skin was the color of the snow starting to cover him. He had saved her. He had killed Dumbledore. Desperation warred within her. The forest sounds faded into nothing more than the whistling winds in the trees, the attacker's foot falls no longer audible. She was too late. Her decision was made.

With a grunt of frustration, she turned back to where Snape lay on the ground and knelt next to him. Saying a fretful prayer, she hoped he hadn't been hit with the same thing she had. She was proficient in Potions, but there was little chance she could make the Evictus Potion for him.

"_E—enervate_," she said with a shaky voice, tears springing to her eyes. "Come on, Snape, damn you!" His left hand twitched, and he let out a low groan.

"Are you okay?" she asked panicked. His eyes fluttered open and then shut again.

"Fine," he grunted. He moved his arms as though he might try to get up, but she placed a firm hand on his chest to stay him. She let out a sigh of relief.

"Do you know who you are?" Best to check to see if he had a concussion from the fall.

"God."

Hermione frowned, remembering the way he strode through the halls of Hogwarts. "You would say that, you miserable git."

"I was trying to say God my head hurts, but you interrupted me, you irritating harpy," he snapped. Well, she didn't have to worry about any head injuries at least. He was definitely feeling all right if he could berate her.

"Can you stand?" she asked, ignoring his comment.

"If you will let me." She pulled back her hand from his chest, and stood up, watching as he staggered to his feet.

"Can you walk? I can hardly Apparate myself, let alone both of us."

"I'm fine!" he barked even as he swayed on his feet. Hermione reached out and grabbed his arm. He glared down at it, but didn't pull away. Encouraged by the lack of overt hostility, she stepped closer and stretched her arm around his waist in an effort to steady him. He was warm and smelled of…roses? The rose oil hadn't just been for her after all.

"Did you get a good look at whoever it was at least?" she asked as they started to walk in the direction of his tiny shack. The snow had stopped but the wind had picked up, whipping Snape's robes around his legs. Hermione was glad she had opted for jeans today.

"The coward stayed hidden in the bushes the entire time," he answered with a bite of bitterness. Coward. It was a heavy insult coming from him. She remembered Harry telling her of his dramatic reaction to the label all those years ago.

"Did they say anything?" There had to be something. Some little piece of evidence that would lead them closer to the truth, but Snape shook his head.

"What were you doing out here anyway?"

He didn't answer, but gripped her shoulder tighter as he stumbled over a rock. Hermione fought to stay upright, throwing her other arm around him. If he fell then so would she, and her legs already hurt enough as it was. He grabbed her other shoulder, pulling her closer as he wobbled. Hermione dug her cane into the ground, finally halting their forward motion.

"Better?" she whispered. Her cheeks flamed as she realized how close they were, standing in an intimate embrace.

Snape nodded. He stood up straight, and pushed her off his chest, but his hands remained on her shoulders. Hermione didn't know what to do with her own hands, wrapped in his robes at his sides, so she left them there. To move them would bring attention to them, and that could only make things more awkward.

"I was looking for whoever attacked you. I can't have a nasty wizard invading my territory. This is my home," he said. Hermione looked at him puzzled for a moment before she realized he was answering her previous question.

"Nastier, you mean."

"Excuse me?" His dark eyes flashed. If Hermione was smart she would stop right there, but she barreled on ahead.

"You meant to say nastier," she said, her lips curling up into a smile. "There's already one nasty wizard on this hill."

"Impertinent girl." She grinned, completely caught off guard as he pulled her to his chest in one fluid motion.

"Oof! What are you doing?" she shouted indignantly, her cries muffled by his thick woolen robes. She could feel his hands fumbling down the one side of her jumper. The man was insane! She saved him from attack and he took it as an invitation to start groping her in the forest. She should have known better than to join leagues with the likes of Severus Snape.

"Going through your bag," he snarled in her ear. A moment later he let her go, holding up her bottle of Strengthening Potion as though he had won the Tri-Wizard Cup. She backed up as fast as she could with her cane and sore legs.

"A sip of this and I can Apparate us home," he explained as she righted her shirt.

"All you had to do was ask," she said, narrowing her eyes.

"But then I wouldn't be a nasty wizard, would I? I'd be a polite one, and that's no fun at all," he said, smirking. She felt like throttling him. He uncorked the bottle and took a sip. Looking at her, he held out his hands. "Coming?"

She shouldn't. But he might be able to help. And this second attack proved only further proved how dangerous this mission was. She took and breath, steeled herself, and took his outstretched hand. A moment later, they landed outside his front door.

Severus woke up and thought he had gone to heaven. It was a surprise really, he had always thought he would end up in the burning fires of hell for his many misdeeds, but here he was with a bright beautiful woman leaning over him, her head encircled by a yellow halo, murmuring soft words to him.

A moment later, when his vision cleared, he had quickly realized it was only Hermione Granger and she was cursing at him. He was certain he had said some cross words himself, but he had the excuse of just waking up after being Stunned.

When she got cheeky with him on the way home, he had pulled her close enough to rifle through her bag. She of all people should know that nasty was a relative term. Her breasts pressed up against his chest and the smell of her hair in his nostrils was only an added benefit, though to be sure, her quick retreat didn't bode well for any repeat performances.

He held out his hand in a gesture of apology. Severus was an expert in gaining forgiveness without ever saying the words, "I'm sorry." She frowned, but accepted his hand.

Once home, she led him inside and into the bedroom, where she started fussing over him.

"I'm fine," he said for what felt like the hundredth time. He tried brushing her off, but she persisted.

"You are not _fine_," she spat. "You were hit with a Stunner and possibly something else…" She pursed her lips in concentration as she inspected him.

"A Stinging Hex," he filled in, rubbing at his hand. It burned, itched, and tingled all at the same time.

"Not fine," she repeated. Surrendering to her ministrations, he sat still while she ran some diagnostic spells over him, mainly around his head. He watched her face while she worked, noticing the way her brow furrowed as she concentrated on making sure he was okay. It had been a very long time since anyone of the female persuasion had looked at him like that, since anyone, female or male, had worried about his well-being. A warm tingling feeling spread through his chest.

Obviously, he had taken that Stunner a little harder than he first thought. Or the effects of the Stinging Hex were spreading. He hadn't known that was possible.

"Are we even now?" she asked, finally finished with her healing charms.

Severus scowled. "Hardly. Only when you have spent three weeks nursing me back to health, brewed an elaborate potion, and sacrificed other things will be even."

"Other things?"

"My time and solitude," he answered, not mentioning the watch. He didn't want her to know exactly what he had given up for in exchange for her life. If he needed something later on he might mention it, but there was no need now.

"It is odd though," she said, drifting off into thought. Severus hated when people did that. Albus had done it constantly.

"What's odd?" he demanded, pushing away any thought of the headmaster.

"Whoever attacked you only wanted to disarm you, to dissuade you from continuing your investigation. But they tried to kill me. They really wanted to hurt me."

"Perhaps they are not one in the same." The minute it left his mouth, he knew how ridiculous that sounded. Just how many people were up on that mountain in possession of a wand? But someone had to play devil's advocate.

"That's highly unlikely," Hermione retorted. "It is quite a coincidence, however, that a Muggleborn goes up on the side of that mountain and almost doesn't make it off alive while a former Death Eater ends up with only a Stupefy and a mild Stinging Hex."

He wanted to argue that it didn't feel like a mild Stinging Hex to him, but he thought she looked dangerous with that cane; comparing her suffering to his could be detrimental to his health. And deep down inside he knew that she was right. It was an awful large coincidence.

"Whatever you are trying to say, I suggest you just go ahead and say it while I am without my wand, Miss Granger," he said with a sneer.

She wrinkled her nose at his harsh tone and his stomach tightened. It was hard to be angry when she looked so tempting. He had been too long alone in this small cabin if Hermione Granger looked enticing. But she had almost since the minute she had come to stay in his shack.

"Maybe whoever it is used to be a Death Eater."

"You might have a point," he said begrudgingly.

"It makes the most sense. We weren't able to catch them all, and some like Malfoy with money and influence were able to convince the Ministry they had been acting under the Imperius Curse."

He nodded in agreement. What she said was very possible. He clenched his hand. It was a bit stiff and sore even after Hermione's ministrations.

"Still hurt?" she asked with a concerned look. He tried to shrug it off, but she captured his hand in her own, pulling it closer for inspection. He hissed in pain when she rubbed her thumb over the affected area.

"Sorry," she said, sounding chagrined. "Hold on, I'll be right back."

She left the room, returning a moment later with a tub of ointment. "Your potions stores are amazing!" she exclaimed.

Her eyes shone and he could easily imagine her look of pure delight where she had first opened his cabinet.

"I am a potions expert," he assured her wryly. She smiled, taking his hand in hers again.

"Well I was counting on you having Pepperup since it's fairly standard in a wizard home, but you have quite a lot more for a man who lives alone." He only nodded, his attention riveted on her as she dipped two fingers into the pot and then began to spread it gently over the back of his hand. He had never liked being touched, shied away from it normally, but his skin tingled where she touched it.

'It's just the menthol,' he told himself sternly. And he tried hard not to remember that this particular formula had no cooling agent like menthol in it.

"Oh," she said. "That's how you make a living. You brew and sell potions."

"Yes, I sell them a discreet buyer who keeps my name out of things. People wouldn't want to buy them if they knew Severus Snape—former Death Eater—had anything to do with them."

She nodded, glancing up at him. He met her gaze with a cold one of his own, noticing with pleasure that she averted her eyes quickly back to his hand. A red blush crept up her neck to her cheeks. It brought a certain satisfaction to know he still had the power to intimidate her.

Although, at this moment he wasn't certain that intimidation was what he wanted or even if it had truly worked because her embarrassment didn't prevent her from lingering over his treatment. Her fingers extended beyond the affected area, showing attention to each finger before she turned it over. With it cradled in the palm of one hand, she traced with the fingers of her other hand the rugged and worn lines of his palm.

"I didn't think it was you," she said so softly he almost missed it. He wrapped his fingers around hers, holding her hand captive.

"Didn't you?" He made sure to keep his voice warm and soft, not wanting to scare her off. Her eyes met his, uncertain and yet there was also a flicker of daring. She had been in Gryffindor after all. She bit at her lip, a habit that usually annoyed him, but reminded him in this moment how he wouldn't mind to be doing the same thing. Would she would let him was the main question.

She shook her head in answer to his question. "I did at the very first."

"But not now?" His thumb caressed her smooth skin, her smaller hand fitting so nicely in his larger one.

"No, you wouldn't fake being attacked in the woods just for my benefit."

"Good. Because I've wanted nothing more than to be left alone," he said. It came out harsher than he meant it, a habit developed after years of pushing people away.

"Right, alone," she murmured, trying to free her hand from his grasp. But he maintained a firm hold, bringing it up to his mouth and kissing her knuckles with just the softest brushes of his lips.

"Thank you. My hand feels much better."

"It was nothing." Severus tried hard not to smirk at her blush, which now extended all the way to her pink ears. He let go of her, busying himself with the pot of ointment. He screwed the lid on, and then left the room. Placing it in the cupboard, he turned to find she had followed him out into the living room.

"I was thinking…"

"Imagine that," he couldn't help but interrupt her.

She frowned but continued on, "It might be better if we worked together. My experience as an Auror combined with your knowledge of the Death Eaters would be very beneficial."

He shouldn't. He didn't want or need Hermione Granger in his life. But neither did he want or need whatever was up on that mountain.

"I agree." He held out his hand for her to shake. With only a moment's hesitation, she took it.

"Just one question," she said, her eyes flashing. He didn't like the look of anticipation on her face.

"Only one?"

"Is your hair purple?"

A/N: Thanks for reading and please leave a review!


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

_The only thing that will redeem mankind is cooperation._  
Bertrand Russell

He plopped down into the rickety old chair that stood in the corner of his small cave. A fire crackled and popped in the center, casting an eerie shadow. Staying to the darkness, he replayed his actions, looking for any mistakes. He had lured the potions maker to him, singing him a song that he couldn't resist. But then he had missed when he had the chance to Stun him. And then someone else had shown up, someone he thought he had rid himself of.

He coughed and sputtered in anger at the thought of a mere girl chasing him away from his prey. He was weak. Casting several powerful spells in such a short time left his bones aching. The air had a hard time finding its way into his feeble lungs. He needed his potion. He almost had all of the ingredients needed. He just needed his potions maker. With his potion, he could become himself again. He could take his rightful place.

* * *

"Is your hair purple?" It was an impertinent question she knew, but Hermione had only been gone a day, and it had definitely been ebony when she left.

"No." Snape turned quickly and retreated into the corner, a mistake if his intent was to try and hide his hair. Instead, it just brought more of his plum locks into view.

"Yes it is. Your hair is purple," she persisted. Abruptly, he spun around to face her.

"This is all your fault," he accused. She stared at him, angry and perplexed at the same time.

"It's my fault your hair is purple?"

"Yes," he hissed. "You and your inane comments about my silky locks." The thought that he had done this for her made her stomach jump. No, not for her, because of something she had said. There was a difference—a big one. Still, it was amusing.

"What did you use?" she asked, trying very hard not to smile. Her lips twitched, however, giving her away.

"You think this is funny?" He turned and threw himself onto the couch. It protested with a squeak from the springs.

"Frankly yes, though I'm touched you took my suggestion to heart," she said, approaching him slowly. He scowled at her. "If you tell me what it is you used, maybe we can fix it."

"You don't think I haven't looked into it?" he asked, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. Hermione reached out tentatively and fingered a strand hanging in his face. It was a bit like sticking one's head in a lion's mouth, but Snape didn't bite, sitting perfectly still. She didn't think he even breathed.

"It is softer now," she said in almost a whisper.

"It's still purple," he replied, with a little less bite than before. Hermione never guessed that all it took to appease Snape was a little flattery.

"Only if the light hits it just right."

"You're just saying that to make me feel better." He sounded like a petulant child.

"Is it working?"

"A bit," he admitted begrudgingly. Hermione smiled and sat next to him on the couch. Placing her hand on his arm, she noticed he flinched at her touch. He hadn't minded her touching him before, though admittedly it had been to heal him. She pulled her hand away.

"It could be worse," she offered, trying not to feel offended. She didn't care what Snape thought of her, she reminded herself.

"How's that?" He sounded skeptical. If she had purple hair, she'd probably say the same thing.

"It could be pink."

He turned facing her with a deep frown. "Your attempts at comfort are abysmal, Miss Granger." Hermione shrugged, and yawned. It was barely noon and already the day's events were starting to wear her down. Snape looked at her sharply.

"You're tired," he accused her.

"I have just saved you from almost certain death," she retorted, "so what if I'm a little worn out?" Had he forgotten she had just recovered from a debilitating curse?

"Do I need to remind you that you are still getting over nearly dying yourself?" She clenched her fists in irritation at his snide tone. So he did remember. Bastard.

"I should go," she said, standing.

"I thought we were to work together?"

"Starting tomorrow. Right now I need a nap." Her nerves were shot. After another attack, his antics in the woods, and worrying over his wounds, she needed some sleep, and maybe a Calming Potion. Snape motioned towards the bedroom. Hermione grimaced.

"I have a hotel room in town. I'll meet you in the lobby tomorrow morning at eight. It's the…"

"The Iron Horse Inn. It's the only one there that doesn't have more fleas than guests. Until tomorrow." He bowed and left the room.

So old-fashioned and formal. Bowing and kissing her hand. He was a strange man, Severus Snape. A strange and dangerous man. And now he was her partner. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, and she didn't know if it were from nerves over working with such a dubious character or her own weakness in the face of his strange yet seductive charm.

* * *

Severus woke up early after a night of tossing and turning. The bed felt empty without her weight next to him. He growled in frustration. He needed to stop thinking about Hermione Granger. A hard thing to do when he remembered he had agreed to help her. Perhaps if he turned up the Snape charm he could scare her off. Or just remind her that he was a known killer.

An hour later he was dressed and waiting for her in the hotel lobby.

"We don't have any rooms available," a woman with a pinched face standing at the front desk told him when he came in.

"Then it is a good thing I am not here in search of one," he snapped. She turned red, and looked like she might tell him to get out, but the phone rang and interrupted her. Snape turned around to see Hermione descending the stairs.

Her hair was tied back, leaving small curling tendrils along the line of her neck. She wore a scoop neck shirt in blue and a pair of beige trousers. His mouth curled downward into a frown as he noticed that her clothes hung a bit rather than fitting snugly. His eyes strayed down, fixing on her breasts. They were the size of oranges. She had lost weight with her recent sickness and he imagined they were usually a little larger, perhaps grapefruits? His gaze traveled up her milky skin to her face to her raspberry lips and then to her sparkling cinnamon eyes. Obviously, he was hungry. In more ways than one.

"Ready to go?" she asked, finally reaching his side.

"I think we should start with breakfast." She frowned. He could see that she didn't want to delay their search even for food. "You're too skinny," he said, pinching her arm.

"So are you," she retorted, pinching him back.

"Then we are agreed. We should start with breakfast."

She sighed, but led him out the door and down the street to a corner café. The waitress nodded to her as if she recognized her, motioning them to a table by the window.

"You come here often?" he asked. She raised her eyebrow and he realized how horribly tacky that had sounded, like a bad pick up line. He pursed his lips, and willed her to answer him without a snide remark.

"Yesterday," she answered, shrugging it off. "Where should we start?"

He knew she meant in their investigation, but he replied, "coffee."

She frowned deeply, snatching up the table's one menu before he could get to it. Was she always this intense? He thought of her as an eleven year old, straining to keep her hand high enough in the air that he might see her. He knew the answer to that question. It seemed little had changed, just her focus.

Hermione was frustrated. She had been attacked. Snape had been attacked. And yet they were sitting here in the neighborhood café ordering breakfast. He wouldn't even discuss the case until the coffee arrived. She watched as he took a sip and let out a large sigh.

"Better?" she asked with only a hint of sarcasm.

"I only approach humanity after a cup of coffee." He took another sip. Hermione wrinkled her nose. She didn't know how he could drink it black, sipping at her own weak tea.

"Why don't we just inject it into your veins?"

The waitress interrupted his reply, but he muttered something under his breath that sounded vaguely like if only I could. Hermione ordered a muffin, handing the menu to Snape. He looked at her with an odd glint in his eye.

"I'd like the grapefruit," he said, not looking at the waitress, his gaze staying on her. She felt a warm rush in the pit of her stomach. He was just ordering breakfast, she reminded herself. Nothing out of the ordinary. So why did it sound like he wasn't talking about food?

"And she will have eggs and some beans in addition to her muffin." She heard him add. Huffing in indignation, she started to protest, but it was too late. The waitress had already sashayed off to the kitchen, their order in hand.

"I don't want eggs. And I don't like beans," she said.

"I don't care. I won't have you fainting away while we're out and about. I've carried you around enough in the last few weeks."

She didn't deign to answer, turning to look out the window, determined not to acknowledge him until the food came. Glancing over a few moments later, she could tell he was perfectly content to sit in silence. That was unacceptable. She didn't want him comfortable.

"So where should we start?" she asked.

"You're the Auror," he said with a shrug, looking wholly uninterested in the conversation.

"You're the Death Eater," she hissed.

"Which only means that you are experienced in rooting out Dark wizards, and I," he paused a moment, lowering his voice so the other patrons couldn't hear, "am skilled in killing and inspiring fear. If you don't mind, I will let you decide where to start."

"Harry would know what to do," she said quietly, more to herself than to him. She desperately wished he or Ron were here now. She knew the basics of an investigation. She could hold her own against Dark and powerful wizards. But it was all so much easier when her best friends were at her side.

"Potter was an idiot," Snape remarked just as their food arrived. With her large order came several plates, and he worked to arrange everything so that it fit on the table. The waitress made a few comments about having everything, but Hermione waved her away with one hand.

"Was?"

Harry had gone looking for Snape after the fall of Voldemort. Both she and Ron had tried to talk him out of it, telling him he deserved a rest from fighting, that he should join in the celebrations. But he had been determined.

Hermione remembered how his jaw was set, his every muscle tensed at the thought of Severus Snape—the man who had told Lord Voldemort about the prophecy, the man who had scorned him from the moment he had laid eyes on Harry, the man who had killed his idol. They had never seen again, and she wondered anew what had happened. Had he found Snape? Had they dueled? Suddenly she wasn't hungry any longer.

"I haven't seen him in years to know if he has outgrown that particular affliction," he said nonchalantly, spooning sugar onto his grapefruit. "Though I doubt it. His father never did."

"James never had a chance!" she said, anger bubbling up inside of her. What had ever made her think that this was a good idea? She stood, pushing her chair back from the table. Snape looked up at her, surprised, his spoon hovering over the sugar bowl.

"No, he didn't."

His eyes met hers. She wanted to leave. She wanted to go home and never see him again, but she couldn't tear away from his gaze. The quiet of the café washed over her, and she realized that they were the center of attention. It couldn't be often that strangers showed up in this small forsaken village and argued in public. Sinking back into her chair, she concentrated on her eggs. They were too runny, and she had to chase them around on her plate, but it gave her something to do other than look at him.

When they finished, he paid for both of them, pretending not to hear her complaints and arguments regarding women in the twenty-first century. The waitress took his money and looked at her like she was crazy.

"I'd give anything if my boyfriend would pay for a meal every once in awhile," she said to Snape. Hermione huffed.

"He is not my boyfriend," she protested. The girl just raised her eyebrows and picked up their dishes. "He's not," she said again for emphasis. Both Snape and the waitress stared at her like she was an alien.

"Just what cover story were you planning on then?" he asked when the waitress was gone.

"Why do I need a cover story? What's wrong with the truth?"

"The truth?" He didn't have to look so damn skeptical about it, or sexy for that matter. No, enigmatic was a better word. Snape and sexy didn't belong together in any circumstance.

"I'm visiting an old friend, and you've been kind enough to assist me on a project," she answered, standing and pulling on her jacket. He stayed seated, watching her with those cold black eyes of his.

"Friend? That's an interesting take on the truth."

She didn't answer, but marched past him and towards the door. "Are you coming or not?" she asked impatiently over her shoulder. She assumed his grunt meant that he was.

"Where to?" he asked once they were back out on the street. "I will follow your strong, capable, and independent lead." She scowled at the mocking tone. It wasn't fair of him to throw her words back at her.

"I thought we might poke around the man's house who disappeared." He nodded in agreement, taking her elbow and leading her into an alleyway. A moment later, he Apparated them both to the outskirts of town.

Severus followed Hermione up a cobbled path to a house that looked like it might topple over in any moment. The white paint was peeling in many spots, and the screen door hung on only two hinges. He smirked as she knocked on the front door.

"I thought he had disappeared?"

"Someone might be home. I never said he lived alone," she said, looking over at him with an irritated glance. The silence said otherwise. The wood creaking and the occasional bird chirping were the only sounds.

"Apparently he does." She scowled, but took out her wand and cast a quick Alohomora. The door creaked open, and she slipped in. He followed behind her. Inside the smell of stale air and muscle cream overpowered him. Wrinkling his nose, he took in the plaid furniture and the stuffed fish hung over the fireplace.

"Charming," he remarked. Hermione ignored him, roaming around the room, her wand out in front of her. It glowed red, and she kept poking it into corners. He followed her from the front room into the dining room. He remembered watching Tonks perform the same spell after Amelia Bones had been found. He didn't need the color change from red to green to tell her it had been the work of Death Eaters, but she insisted it had been for the paperwork. Must be an Auror thing.

"Nothing," she said. She started to say something else, but the butt of a shotgun poking through the doorway to the kitchen cut her off.

"I'M NOT GOING WITH YOU!" an older man shouted. Severus raised a questioning eyebrow at Hermione. She looked at him panicked.

"Are you Mr. Perkins?" she asked, turning back to the old man. He wore what looked like a hospital gown, house shoes, and his thin white hair stuck up at all angles. Severus thought he looked deranged.

"YOU TELL MY IDIOT SON THAT IF HE WANTS MY MONEY HE CAN JUST WAIT UNTIL I DIE!" Perkins waved the shotgun around to emphasize his point, just in case the screaming didn't do it. Severus wondered if his hearing aid was working.

"We're not taking you anywhere, Mr. Perkins. We just had some questions for you."

"I'm NOT going back to any nursing home."

"No, no," she said in a soothing tone. "We just want to know if anyone had hurt you recently." Her wand remained red. It was obvious to Severus that the only place this man had disappeared to was the nearest hospital.

"Get out of my house!" he inched forward, swaying with the weight of the gun. A strong wind was all it would take to knock the old man over. Severus tugged on Hermione's sleeve.

"Let's go," he hissed. She nodded, and together they slowly backed their way out. They hurried down the walk, the shouts of Perkins following them all the way into the street. Hermione leaned against the fence, catching her breath. Severus stowed his wand back in his sleeve.

"Well something suspicious is going on there, but not anything related to our investigation," she stated matter of fact.

"Do you think he has any money?" he asked. The dilapidated house and furnishings made him wonder if maybe the son had a point. The old man looked like he needed some sort of supervised care.

"If he does, it's stashed under the mattress," she muttered. She looked disappointed and downtrodden. Another lead in her case had fallen through. He couldn't help it. He laughed. Her startled look only made it worse. He laughed harder.

"You have to admit that was humorous," he said in between chuckles. She furrowed her brow, looking at him like he was a complex Arithmancy problem. "Maybe our Dark wizard friend took his money...and his clothes."

She stalked away, her shoulders squared. He had a feeling she was trying not to smile at him, but he knew better. He had seen her lips curl up just the slightest bit. He had her on edge. Just where he wanted her.

Hermione thought that Snape laughing was truly a horrible thing to witness. He was taciturn and angry. He scowled. He smirked. But he did not laugh. Except at her. She had thought he was different, that he was invested in this case like she was. Obviously, she had been wrong…again. The realization stung.

She stalked away from him, leaving him in the street laughing at her. The image of the two of them high tailing it out of there was slightly amusing, she supposed, but not enough to make Snape laugh. And it didn't change one thing. Just because this lead had fallen through didn't mean anything. Something had almost killed her. She hadn't just made that up, hadn't just fainted like the melodramatic nervous wannabe hero her boss and partner made her out to be.

Stopping, she tried to remember if the woman in the café had mentioned where their missing friend, Colin, lived. It was a long shot, but it wouldn't hurt to just drop by. Maybe he was visiting his daughter in Edinburgh or maybe something more sinister had happened. Deep in thought, she didn't hear Snape come up beside her.

"Where to now?" he asked. She looked at him surprised.

"You're not going home?"

"Not unless you think there's some clue to who attacked us in my kitchen sink," he said with a sneer. All traces of his laughter had left him, save for a slight twinkle in his left eye. He liked her, she realized suddenly. Or at least enjoyed her company. She wasn't sure how she felt about that, but she was grateful that he wanted to help no matter the reason.

"Well, there has been some talk of another disappearance," she offered.

"More substantial than the last one?"

"Less so." She shook her head. How was she to know Mr. Perkins had been carted off to the hospital? From what she knew, his daughter had filed a missing persons report with the local police office and no one had seen or heard from him in days. Though from the looks of things, it looked like he needed to be sent back again.

"Shall we go?" Snape held his hand out. She took it, trying to slow the beat of her heart as he pulled her closer to him. She had to stand that close for him to Apparate them both, that was all.

"I need to go back to town—to find the address," she stuttered.

He nodded and for the second time that day, they popped out of sight with a loud crack. The only two souls who noticed were a stray tabby cat and an elderly woman looking out the window. She took her glasses off, cleaned them, then put them back on with a shake of her head. Time to go back to the optometrist.

* * *

An hour later, Severus and Hermione crept up the front walk of yet another house. Mr. Colin Danielsen lived right of the main thoroughfare through town. It was a much nicer home than Perkins'—a modest two story painted a light green. A short stone wall with a white gate enclosed a well kept garden. The only problem was that anyone around could see them approaching the house. Severus couldn't think of any excuse they might have for calling if he did happen to be home. He brought this up to Hermione, but she had a few ideas—ideas he'd rather be caught dead than attempting.

"How's your American accent?" she asked.

"My what?" He really couldn't see where this was going.

"Can you sound American?" she persisted.

"Why?" he growled.

"If someone does answer the door then we'll need a cover story. I thought we could pose as missionaries from America. Here to tell them how they can avoid the eternal fires of hell." He had to admit she looked the part. Demure clothes, innocent smile, but with a determined look. All she needed was a Bible to thump. He, on the other hand, was no saint, and his acting skills could only take him so far.

"No." She frowned, but her eyes lit up again in moments as another idea came to her.

"We could be taking a radio survey. We want to know what stations they listen to and when."

"That would mean standing there and listening to their answers," he said wryly. The point was to figure out if the man was there or not, not determine if he preferred classical music to pop.

"The census?" she offered. He shook his head.

"You must be a horrible Auror," he remarked, pushing open the front gate and going in. There was no need for any farce. If someone did answer the door, they just asked if Danielsen was there. If he was, great. They Obliviated him and went home. If not, they asked why, Obliviated them, and went home.

"I am not horrible," she said, jogging to catch up to him. "I brought in Avery, Mulciber, and Nott. I helped catch the African witch doctor who was…"

Severus ignored her, knocking loudly on the front door. There was no answer.

"I am not horrible," she muttered under her breath.

"I don't think anyone is home. I'm afraid you'll have to conduct your survey some other time. Shall we poke around inside?" he asked. She nodded, pulling out her wand. He moved to shield her movements from anyone who might be looking on from the street. A simple Unlocking Spell later and they were in the door. The interior was neat and clean. Pictures of smiling people hung on the walls and pillows were nicely arranged on the sofa.

"He likes to fish," he remarked, noticing a pile of magazines on the coffee table with fishermen splashed across the front. Hermione didn't say anything, but roamed around, her wand glowing red from her detection spell.

Severus walked to the fireplace. A picture of a two men, one young and one older, stood behind a young woman and a small boy. The woman and the older man resembled each other, both with the same auburn hair and green eyes.

"Are you sure he isn't just visiting family?" he asked, picking the picture up. He wondered if they were the happy family they looked to be in the picture. Probably not, he mused. He had family portraits that gave the same impression. Unlike Wizard photos, Muggle pictures lied. They smiled, but Severus had no idea what they were really feeling.

"I don't think he's with family," Hermione answered, turning to him. Her face drained of what little color it had, and her eyes sparked with fear. She held out her wand for him to see. The tip glowed a bright green.

* * *

"The girl is still here, my Lord," his servant informed him. She trembled, anticipating his wrath. But he couldn't afford to punish her like she deserved. He needed her.

"Then see to it that she finds a reason to leave," he snapped. The constant waiting, the baby steps toward his goals, was starting to wear him thin. He wanted to live. He wanted to feel power flowing through him again, to command those around him with a single word or the smallest of glances.

"The wand? Do you have it?" he held out his hand, waving it impatiently. His servant placed the smooth wood handle in his hand. He gave it an experimental wave, watching as green sparks flew out the end.

"Good, good," he murmured. This would help. Last time it had been so messy, but now that he had a proper wand, getting the supplies he needed would be much easier. Now he just needed a heart.

A/N: I have tried putting in breaks three times now. I hope it works.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

_Happiness can exist only in acceptance._  
Denis De Rougamont

Hermione's wand glowed green. Someone had performed Dark magic in this house, and recently. Mr. Danielsen wasn't visiting his daughter in Edinburgh. A sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach told her that he probably hadn't survived. If she as a witch had barely pulled through, then what chance did a Muggle have. She turned to Snape and showed him the wand. He had been rattling on about various items in the room, but he shut up when he saw the green light.

"That's it then," he said in a low rumble, placing a picture frame he had been looking at back on the mantle piece. She nodded. With a wave of her wand, the green haze disappeared and a piece of parchment appeared. She grabbed it before it fluttered to the floor and set it on the nearby side table.

"Do you have a spare quill," she said, rummaging through her pockets. Normally she kept one in her robes, but today she wore Muggle clothes and there was little room for both her wand and a quill in her sleeve.

"Not in this attire," he answered, coming closer.

"I need a pen!" She was starting to panic. They needed help. This was bigger than either one of them could handle. And now that she had proof, hard evidence that something was indeed going on, she could get that help. Snape opened a drawer of a desk that sat in the corner and handed her a ballpoint pen. Hermione uncapped it, and then took a breath to calm herself down. Administration would need to be able to read her handwriting if they were to process her request for extra bodies on this case.

_Muggle man, approximately aged 60-70 years old missing. No evidence that anyone else resides in the house._

"What is that?" Snape asked, coming up behind her and peering over her shoulder. She hated it when people did that.

"A D-365." She kept writing.

_A Mostras Charm positively reveals the presence of Dark magic, class 5, in the last 48-72 hours. Perpetrator unknown at this time._

"A D what?"

"It's a form," she said, scribbling her name at the bottom. Her pen hesitated over the last line. The form required two signatures. One wasn't enough. Two people had to witness a positive result of the test to keep vigilante Aurors from "creating" evidence. It was exactly what Eckhert would accuse her of if she didn't have that second signature.

"Here," she said, her decision made. She pushed the pen into Snape's hand. He looked at it as if it might turn into a snake and bite him at any moment. If he didn't sign the damn thing and quickly she might use her Transfiguration skills and make it do just that.

"And just what am I supposed to do with this?" he asked with a sneer. Hermione glared at him.

"Sign it. It requires two signatures."

"I can't sign that," he protested.

"You can't or you won't?" A look of pure fury contorted his face. His eyes narrowed until they were almost slits and his voice lowered almost to a whisper.

"Both, you impudent girl!" He tossed the pen aside. "Do you think I live out here in the middle of nowhere because I enjoy nature? Because I like having little to no contact with anyone in the Wizarding world? I'm here because I'd rather be anywhere but in Azkaban. And I will not go back to prison because you need a signature for a puerile piece of bureaucratic nonsense."

"Then that's it then?" She took a step closer, looking up at him. She could feel the color rising to her cheeks, but she didn't care. "We just let whatever it is up there continue to attack Muggles and Wizards alike? We just let it gather more and more power until it can't be stopped?"

"Tell me, Miss Granger," Snape asked disdainfully, ignoring her question, "did you envision a life of paper pushing when you sat in class and dreamed of being an Auror? Did the idea of mountains of forms with a sea of letters for names excite you in a way nothing else could?" He came closer, his voice like a soft caress and a sharp knife all at the same time.

"Sign the form," she said through gritted teeth.

"No."

Her eyes drifted shut in an effort to hide the tears of frustration that swam in her vision. "I can't do this alone," she whispered desperately.

"You don't have to." She opened her eyes to see him staring intently at her. She knew he meant it. Nodding, she waved her wand and the D-365 disappeared.

"We should go back to the hotel. I can phone his daughter to make sure he really is missing." Eckhert had suspended her anyway. Best that she gather more evidence before she went running back to him. She only hoped that Mr. Danielsen survived until then, if he was indeed still alive at all.

"Shall we Apparate?" Snape asked. His voice still sounded pinched, but she could see that his anger had evaporated.

"I feel like walking if you don't mind." She needed to clear her head. He nodded his agreement, handing her her cane and taking her by the elbow. She wanted to resist, but after stumbling over the front steps, she decided that keeping him close by was a good idea.

* * *

The walk back to the hotel was a tedious one, and Severus found himself wishing he hadn't agreed to it. When they finally reached the inn, Hermione tried to tell him that she was fine, scowling at him when he mentioned her earlier tumble down the porch steps. Escorting her inside, he flashed his most intimidating scowl at the woman at the front desk. Her mouth opened to say something but she promptly shut it again. It was nice to know that his tactics still worked on someone, even if Miss Granger had become immune to them.

"You'll meet me here again tomorrow? Same time?" Hermione asked as she fumbled for her room key.

Severus ignored her question. "Do you have enough Evictus potion? You should take another dose today before you eat." The thought of going back to his tiny little house alone terrified him. He didn't want another evening of flipping through Potions manuals. But he needed a plausible excuse, something that didn't make it sound like he wanted to spend more time with her or implied that he might enjoy her company.

She wrinkled her nose. "You're sure you don't require someone to 'assist' you?" He couldn't help the sarcasm that crept into his tone.

"I don't need a nursemaid." She found her key and stuck it in the lock.

"Is that all you used? A Muggle lock and key?" he asked incredulously.

"I was running late this morning. Really, Snape, first with the potion and now with this. You'd think I was still your stu—" Her last words were lost in her strangled cry as the door swung open. He looked in past her to see a room in total disarray.

The nightstand was overturned, the lamp in pieces, shattered on the floor. The mattress had been slashed, and the dresser had been overturned, the individual drawers and their contents lay scattered around.

"What were you saying?" he asked. She didn't answer but just sputtered. Blindly, she started to walk in and survey the entire mess, but Severus grabbed her by the shoulders.

"Stop!" he hissed. "You should check to be sure they are gone before you go in, and for heaven's sake, get your wand out!" A second later, with her wand in hand, she performed a quick spell to check for any lingering intruders.

"They're gone," she said with a sigh. Even so, they entered cautiously.

"Did they take anything?"

Hermione kicked through the clothes and papers on the floor. "I don't think so. I didn't have much, and most of it looks to be here."

He nodded and waved his wand. A cool breeze blew through the room as it righted itself. When he turned around, Hermione sat on the bed, her head in her hands. She looked worn and tired.

'She should be at home resting, not out here fighting this,' he thought, worrying about the lack of color in her complexion. The only time she looked vaguely healthy was when she was angry with him.

"Who would do this?" she asked. Her voice was small and choked, certainly not the same woman who had shouted at him in a café just earlier today.

"Someone who doesn't like the snooping around you've been doing."

"Who?" He didn't think the question was directed at him. At least he hoped it wasn't because he didn't know. Was it the same person who had attacked them both? An accomplice? What would have happened if Hermione had been in the room when they had come? But then they had come in the middle of the day when she was certain to be out. He felt sure that this was meant as a warning.

"You can't stay here," he said.

"I'm not giving up," she said to the floor. He furrowed his brow. She couldn't go home, she'd splinch herself trying to Apparate and he envisioned her slipping off her broom halfway to London.

"You'll stay with me. Same arrangement as before." He paused when she looked up at him with a questioning look. "Perhaps not exactly the same as before," he said with a sly grin.

He liked the way her eyebrows raised in surprise. Did he dare voice what he would like to change? It had been so long since he had any companion of any kind, and even longer since it had been intelligent and female. He could almost forget that she had been his student, or a friend of Potter's, or an irritating know it all swot.

"I'll expect you to do your share of the cooking and cleaning," he said harshly instead. He had been alone too long that he didn't know how to voice anything other than irritation and disdain. Her eyebrows lowered and she let out a sigh. He hoped it wasn't one of relief. Disappointed—he liked to think that she was disappointed rather than relieved that he would think of her more than a former student.

"Just give me a moment to gather up my things," she said. He nodded and left her to it, taking her key with him. Descending the stairs, he approached the front desk.

"My friend in room 4 will be checking out," he said. He slapped the key down on the desk.

"I told her she didn't want to be staying here," the woman said. Her wiry black hair curled into her face just barely covering the worn lines that showed she frowned more often than she smiled.

"And why is that?" he snarled.

"She should go back to London where she belongs. There are strange things happening here, but that doesn't make it any of her business. It's ours and we can take care of it."

"What else has happened?" he demanded. She glared at him with cold eyes.

"It's none of your business either, you purple-haired freak." Severus ignored the comment about his hair. He could hex her later. A well-aimed Itchy Jinx would shut her up, he imagined. But at the moment, her hard stare gave him the opportunity to glance at the information she thought she hid so well. Danielsen wasn't the only one who had gone missing. A small girl, aged eight and a picture of loveliness of blond hair and blue eyes. Her name was Emily—

"I'm ready to go. Am I checked out?" Hermione asked, coming up behind him. Severus cursed.

She frowned at him. "Have you changed your mind? Because I can…"

"No, no. I need that room. Have a party of six coming in this afternoon," the woman at the desk hurried to say. She obviously lied. There was no good reason why anyone, let alone six people, would come to this forsaken corner of the world. Severus stormed out, leaving Hermione to settle the bill. He stood in the sun, trying to get warm and wishing he would have thought to put a Warming Charm on his coat before he went out among Muggles. He could hardly cast the spell now. He was blowing on his hands when she came outside.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

"Yes," he said tersely. He grabbed her by the arm and hauled her into the alleyway. Pulling her to his chest, he Apparated them home.

* * *

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked Snape as she followed him into the house. She had yet to figure out the man. One minute she thought she could detect a mischievous glint in his eye and the next he snapped at her.

"She called me a purple haired freak," he said, waiting for her to come through the doorway before slamming it shut. She jumped at the sudden noise. She assumed he meant the nasty woman at the hotel. Hospitality had been lacking.

"And you interrupted me," he continued.

She looked at him puzzled. "Interrupted you? You were standing there staring at her."

"Exactly." He stormed past her into the bedroom.

"You were going to hex her," she accused, following him.

"I should have, but no," he said, rifling through the wardrobe. He pulled out one black robe, looked at it, and then rejected it for yet another black robe. He seemed in a mad hurry to get out of his Muggle clothing. Though from this angle, the black trousers and gray jumper suited him.

Hermione eyed him suspiciously. Something rattled in the bottom drawer. Snape silenced it with a sharp kick, and then pulled a robe off a hanger, laying it out on the bed. Just what did he have in there? "She was hiding something."

"You were using Legilimency?"

"Until you came up and broke my eye contact," he snarled.

"Oh."

"Yes, oh." Hermione frowned. She felt badly, but there was no need to mock her for it. He pulled off his sweater and tossed it over his shoulder. The hamper in the corner shuffled a little to the left and opened its lid, catching it deftly.

"What did you find out?"

"A girl has gone missing," he said, suddenly sounding very tired. "Eight or nine…her name is Emily." He turned and looked at her sharply. "Do you mind, I'm trying to get dressed here."

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. Turning on her heel, she hurried out of the room. With a sigh, she flopped down on the couch. A child…a girl was missing. She could hardly believe it. She didn't want to believe it. The attack on her and then Snape was one thing; they could defend themselves. The Muggle man was nearly defenseless but a child. A child was the embodiment of vulnerability. If only she had acted sooner, this might not have happened. That girl had disappeared, might even be dead, and it was all Hermione's fault.

"Have you come up with a plan?" she heard Snape ask behind her. She shook her head, looking up at him as he joined her. He wore his habitual black robes and looked much more comfortable. She blushed again at the thought of seeing him dressing, though to be honest she hadn't seen anything more than his vest.

"Miss Granger without a plan? I hardly believe it." She scowled at him.

"Your hair is still purple," she reminded him in a fit of pique.

If he wanted to be childish then so would she. The look of pure anger made her think that he didn't really need reminding. She felt bad for bringing it up. It was partly her fault, and he was being nice to her, in his own special way. She had to remember to look at what his actions told her rather than what came spewing out of his mouth.

"We could cut it," she offered. He considered this for a moment, and then to her surprise, he nodded.

"Not too short," he stipulated. Hermione agreed.

"It's only the ends that are very bad. It shouldn't be too bad." She grabbed her cane and jumped up. "Where are the scissors?"

He stood and motioned with his hand for her to follow him into the kitchen. He took out a pair of shears and a comb, laying them on the table with the precision and care of a dedicated surgeon. It had never really occurred to Hermione how much a part of his self-image and worth came from his hair. He was just like anyone else, she realized, and it made him seem more human.

She conjured a mirror while he took a seat. Her shoulders tensed as she ran the comb through his lanky locks. It felt odd to be this close to him, so intimate to be standing here, brushing his hair. It looked like he felt the same way; he pursed his lips and it looked like he was barely breathing.

"You're not like Samson, are you?" she asked, the shears posed to make the first cut. She smiled in an effort to reassure him, but it didn't seem to be working.

"If you're not Delilah," he said seriously, his eyes meeting hers.

She realized for the first time that he must think that she was sent here to capture and bring him in. So distracted by her own goal and she hadn't seen it, but it all made sense. His effort to save her life despite his suspicions left a warm tingly feeling in her stomach. He couldn't be as bad as she thought. There was still the Death Eater thing however, and the fact that he had killed Dumbledore.

'But he saved your life,' a tiny voice in her head repeated with every argument against him. Let others hate him. Hermione knew she couldn't. She didn't have to like him, but she didn't hate him.

"I won't betray you," she said softly.

"Be careful that you don't," he replied. She bit her lip and nodded that she understood.

"Cut me, that is," he continued on as though there had been no break or little moment of silent communication between them. "I want both ears intact when this little adventure is over."

"Purple hair and no ears," she said, laughing. "Now that is certainly a look to strive for."

"Indeed." He waved his hand at her. "Well, get on with it."

She took a deep breath and then made the first cut, noticing that Snape kept his eyes closed as bunches of black hair fell to the floor. Half an hour later, his hair was shorter and less purple. She set the scissors down and ran her fingers through it, her hands resting on his shoulders. It was still long by many standards, but it was much neater looking. He might even be considered handsome but for his nose.

"Much better," she said.

"It feels different," he remarked, reaching up to touch it.

"I like it. You look much less intimidating than before."

"Perhaps intimidating was what I was going for," he said with a snarl, the side of his lip curling up. His eyes narrowed and flashed with something that unsettled her. It reminded Hermione of the night she had seen him so angry in the Shrieking Shack.

"I take it back. You could make any first year cry with a look like that." She dropped her hands and stepped back.

"Too bad it never worked on you," he said, standing and facing her. His lips stayed curled up in a snarl and his robes swirled around him. It was like being back at Hogwarts. She expected him to start lecturing on the twelve uses of dragon's blood or call her a know-it-all.

"You made me cry numerous times."

"Is that so?" he asked, advancing on her. She took another step back, and another until she hit the couch.

"Yes, of course. That first day of class when you told me to put my hand down, fourth year when you said you saw no difference in my teeth, and then in sixth when you ki—" she stopped suddenly.

He towered over her, mere inches away now. She hadn't seen him kill Dumbledore but Harry had told her and Ron about the look in his eye as he did it, and she imagined it wasn't far off the one he gave her now.

She backed up again, forgetting that the couch stood behind her. One moment she was standing upright, staring up into his fathomless black eyes and in the next, she laid splayed out over the arm of the sofa, her legs sticking straight up in the air. She landed with a thump.

Snape rushed forward. He stopped her flailing legs with his hands on her knees, peering over her legs. His mouth twitched in what Hermione thought might be amusement.

"What are you doing?" he asked, holding his hands out to help her up.

"Illustrating just how intimidating you can be, you horrible, horrible man." She took his outstretched hands, her fingers intertwining between his. With a sharp tug, he pulled her up and over the arm of the couch. She collided with his chest.

"I didn't mean to make you cry," he said. He replaced the scowl and snarl with a look of concern, instantly changing his face. He looked human again. And almost handsome, a rogue thought betrayed her. He lifted his hand to her cheek, the callused pad of his thumb brushing lightly against her skin.

"Yes you did," she retorted, trying to ignore the fluttering in her stomach. She was hungry, that was all. She hadn't eaten since breakfast that morning.

"You deserved it for setting my coat on fire in your first year and attacking me in your third." Hermione didn't add stealing from him in her second. She assumed he still blamed Harry for that, and she wasn't about to enlighten him. He was right about the first two, but the last…on the last she still had questions.

"Why?" she whispered. His eyes narrowed, and he dropped his hand from her face. She could see that he instantly knew what she meant. There was no need to explain herself. She backed out of his embrace, but he caught her mid-retreat by the hand, and led her to the couch.

"Harry told us about the Unbreakable Vow," she said softly as she sat down. He sat next to her, not so close as to be touching, but close enough to keep a hold on her hand. She didn't pull away, and he didn't let go. He clung to it like a drowning man did a lifejacket.

"Then you know it was my life or the headmaster's that night."

"I don't understand," she said. She had all the facts but they refused to coalesce together in her brain. The whole picture remained fuzzy and out of focus.

"Why did the Dark Lord want Draco to kill the headmaster?" Snape asked.

"He wouldn't have expected him to succeed so he must have expected Draco to fail and then he would be justified in killing him," she said.

"The Dark Lord doesn't need justification to do anything. And his father's failure to get the prophecy would have been more than enough. No, Hermione, think! Why would he send Draco to kill the headmaster? What would he gain from it?"

"He expected him to fail…."

"Correct." He sounded like the old professor Snape she knew. She felt like she was back in class the way he questioned her now, but if meant she would finally have answers, then she was willing to endure it.

"He…he expected Dumbledore to kill him!" Hermione said, the picture coming a little more into focus.

"Make no mistake, the Dark Lord is no fool. He knows that fear and terror will only take him so far, but if he had a Pureblood poster child around which to rally…Draco's death was meant to unite the Death Eaters and convince those who wavered to finally commit," Snape explained.

"But Professor Dumbledore never would have killed Draco!" Hermione exclaimed. It was unthinkable, especially when she thought of what Harry had told that the headmaster had offered him even as he threatened his life.

"No he wouldn't have."

"So why…?" He didn't let her finish the thought.

"Because no one would have mourned my death. No one would have erected a memorial to me. Tell me, how determined was Potter to defeat the Dark Lord afterwards?" Even before Harry knew about the prophecy, he had a certain determination, a fervor about it. But that night on the Astronomy tower had changed everything.

"He was so focused. He dragged us all over the country…" she trailed off, remembering the hellish months of looking for Horcruxes. It had been both horrible and wonderful—the last time she had spent time with Harry and Ron.

"Then you see that it served both strategy as well as my own selfish desires for survival." He looked at her with an intense and searching look. What he was looking for she wasn't sure – understanding, absolution, or perhaps something more like horror and disgust.

She nodded that she understood. So straightforward and cunning, no wonder the man was in Slytherin. She tried to integrate the differing views she had of him—spy, teacher, murderer, ally—but none of it fit. He refused to be boxed in.

"Did—" she hesitated. "Did Dumbledore know about the Vow?"

"He always knew everything," he answered. It was a cryptic answer. Did he know because Snape had told him or because he had forced it out of him or because somehow the headmaster seemed to know everything.

Pressing the point didn't seem like a good idea. The memory of his cold stare convinced that some things were better left unknown. She realized that he still held her hand and that his thumb slowly caressed her palm, making her shiver.

"Are you cold?" he asked, letting go of her hand and reaching for the throw he kept draped over the back of the couch. She shook her head, standing.

"I should go take my potion before tea," she said, hurrying off to the bathroom before he could speak another word. She needed time to process everything. Hiding in the bathroom, she took the Evictus Potion and then spent half an hour cleaning herself up, brushing her teeth and hair and splashing water over her face.

She thought about Snape killing Dumbledore and the possibility that it really had been the best choice. How Snape had gone into hiding, evading both Voldemort and the Ministry. And then she suddenly remembered subtle incidents from that summer, little things that had changed the course of their search, usually for good.

Like the time they had come back to their hotel room to find it burglarized. Some of Hermione's notes had been takes, and most of their money, but the thief hadn't been careful. They had dropped a slip of paper with an address, an address that had led them to the next Horcrux.

That memory of it led her to the mess her hotel room had been this afternoon. Except this time there were no clues to who had done it. And then there was the information Snape had gotten out of the desk clerk. A young girl was missing, probably dead. They had to find her. They had to stop whatever was on that mountainside. And they needed to do it soon. The local school would know the girl's last name and most likely when she had gone missing. They kept track of those sorts of things in cases of truancy.

She must have been longer than she thought because just as she finished up Snape knocked on the door. "You haven't fallen in, have you?"

She opened the door to find him standing there frowning. "Are you going to eat?" he asked impatiently. She hadn't meant to be so long. Nodding, she silently followed him back into the kitchen, her mind racing with a hundred ideas on how to pursue this case.

* * *

Severus watched as Hermione fled. Why did he tell her all that? He could have just reminded her that she had asked for his help and no the other way around. What she must think of him now? Before now, he might would have been glad to see the back of her. But now…after having spent some time with her and actually enjoyed himself. And there was something more. He had barely breathed while she cut his hair, making it up by scaring her after. It was only fair.

She followed him into the kitchen, sitting at the table and eating her dinner without a word. The silence mocked him. He couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief when she finally did speak.

"We should probably go to the local school tomorrow and see what else we can find out about that missing girl. And then maybe see if we can find out anymore about Mr. Danielsen." Severus stared at her. It certainly wasn't what he had been expecting, recriminations, exclamations, and accusations of how he was an evil man, but not this.

"If you think it's a horrible idea, just say so. But only if you have something better to offer," she said indignantly.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I don't have anything else. You're the Auror," he reminded her.

"And you're a great help," she said, placing her hand over his.

He nodded, turning his head away so she couldn't see the corners of his lips curl the slightest bit up, not into a snarl this time, but a smile. They finished dinner with a conversation regarding what little Severus knew about the people in town, Hermione insisting that any little tidbit might help. Afterwards, he snapped at her to carry her fair share, shoving the dirty dishes in her direction.

When she smiled at him instead of glaring or snapping back, he decided that seducing Hermione Granger might not be such a bad idea after all. She offered him something no one had since Professor Dumbledore—acceptance—and it came packaged much more nicely this time. It was a heady aphrodisiac indeed.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed. I appreciate each and every one.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

_Courage and perseverance have a magical talisman, before which difficulties disappear and obstacles vanish into air._

The next morning Snape reconsidered his decision from the previous night as she dragged him into town to the local school.

"You want to what?" a blue haired old woman asked for the third time as they stood in a cramped and smelly office. The sound of children laughing and screaming in the adjacent hallway as they went to class filled him with dread. It reminded him of Hogwarts, which reminded him of Albus, which reminded him of…

"I want to enroll my daughter in school here for the next term. I've just moved here," Hermione explained again. Severus sighed. Her mantra that honey attracted flies better than vinegar only worked when one was trying to catch flies. At the moment, they just needed information on the little girl who had gone missing.

The old woman furrowed her brow, staring a hole through Severus' forehead. "Haven't I seen you around town before?" she said. It was an accusation rather than polite conversation. He glanced over at Hermione, who shook her head slightly as a cue. Well, if she wanted to playact, then playact he would.

He insinuated his arm around her waist and pulled her close. She gasped in surprise, but he ignored her and addressed the secretary. "I finally convinced my beloved to move up here with me." He leaned in closer, using a not so quiet whisper. "Unfortunately, she comes with an eight-year old shrieking terror, but I figure she'll be in school most of the day so we can have sex then, and maybe in a year or two I'll convince her that boarding school is a good option."

"Snape!" Hermione pushed him away hard. "Are you mad?" She looked apologetically at the secretary, opening her mouth to utter some more nonsense that would get them nowhere, but he cut her off.

"We want information on the little girl who went missing," he said in his firmest teaching voice, the one that brooked no argument and could make even adults quiver in fear. "NOW."

"Who?" The woman trembled under his hard gaze. Severus could almost feel the anger radiating off of Hermione next to him, but she didn't move to stop him so he continued on.

"Let me jog your memory—Emily , aged eight or nine. Where is she?" he asked, lowering his voice to almost a whisper.

"Nobody knows." This woman was an idiot who needed it spelled out for her. Severus resisted the urge to take her by the neck and wring the information out of her.

"Where was she seen last?"

"In the woods near their house. She liked to play there with her older brother. He came back dazed and confused and they only found the doll she had been playing with. The police suspect her father. They divorced last year and they've been fighting over custody," she answered, speaking quickly.

"Why would he take the sister and not the brother?" Hermione asked, stepping forward. So now that they had some answers, she was less inclined to quibble over the facts of how they got them? He would be sure to mention that later.

"It doesn't make sense. He never did play favorites," the secretary answered. A pregnant pause ensued while they all three contemplated the matter. "D—did you still want to enroll your daughter here?" she stammered a moment later.

"No, I think not," Hermione said. She started to leave. Severus touched her shoulder, stopping her.

"One more thing." She looked at him confused. He took out his wand and pointed it at the Muggle. They couldn't leave loose ends lying around.

"_Obliviate_."

"I can't take you anywhere," Hermione muttered on the way out. He just smirked and followed her.

* * *

"I've got a girl, my lord," his servant informed him. It was not what he wanted to hear. He threw the glass he had been drinking from across the room. It hit the rock wall with a crash, shattering into a thousand pieces.

"What good does that do me right now?" he hissed. She backed up just a little. Even without her little tell, he could smell the fear on her.

"We have nearly everything we need now," she continued on, not answering the question.

"All but one," he reminded her.

"We'll have him soon too. Don't worry my lord." She came closer, using the soothing voice that calmed him every time. He nodded. She was right. He could be patient. The reward would be great in time.

An investigation of the wooded area where Emily had last been seen led them to a thinly shielded shack. Made of stone, it looked like it had been there for a millennia the way the surrounding forest had grown up and over it. Snape found it with little trouble only minutes after they entered the forest.

"This is it, I can feel it," he said, striding closer without checking out the area first. Hermione frowned at his lack of caution. Hadn't he just been yelling at her for the same thing yesterday and yet here he was marching into possible danger with little thought of the consequences.

She did her own quick sweep. A Cloaking Spell covered the area, but there was something else too. Something she couldn't quite identify, a charm she hadn't ever seen before. But now her curiosity was piqued and there was nothing for her to do but follow Snape.

He stood at the door, cutting down the vines that covered the entrance. They revealed a wooden door behind it, one that looked fairly new. Odd, that the overgrowth would cover it so quickly, but Hermione didn't stop to contemplate it. She hurried to get in.

"_Alohomora_," she said, pointing her wand at the door. Nothing happened, not that she expected anything to, but she had learned the hard way always to start with the simple spells first and work your way up to the more difficult ones.

"Let me try," Snape said, pushing her aside. She scowled at him as she gripped her cane tighter. He didn't notice her glare or how he almost knocked her over. "_Abracadabra!_"

Nothing happened. Hermione furrowed her brow. "Abracadabra?" she asked skeptically. That sounded like something a Muggle magician would use right before he pulled a rabbit out of a hat.

"It's a real spell," he said in his defense. He shook his wand and tried again.

"Maybe we should try 'Open Sesame' next," she retorted. The words were no sooner out of her mouth before the door opened with a horrific creak that echoed through the trees.

"I think that's an excellent idea," he said with a smirk, motioning for her to lead. "Ladies first."

Resisting the temptation to wipe the amused look off of his face, she cast a Lumos spell and pointed her wand toward the darkened door and hobbled in. It appeared to be a Potions laboratory. Shelves lined the walls covered in jars of ingredients, some of them as slimy as the things Snape kept, some of the worse. Cauldrons sat on a work bench in the middle of the room. She crept closer, peeking into one. It held a sticky goo that looked like it had been sitting there for a long time—a bad potion abandoned halfway through.

"Whoever this building belongs to isn't much of a potions maker," Snape commented, poking his wand into the cauldron Hermione had just looked into.

"But all of the equipment and the ingredients…" She trailed off, noticing another door at the other end of the room, one she hadn't noticed before.

"It's adequate, I suppose." She heard Snape say, but her attention gravitated away from the potions and to the closed door. She shuffled closer and tried the handle. It was locked. Using the same spell that had let them in, she attempted entry once more.

Nothing.

"What's in there, you think?" she asked, turning to look at Snape. He had come up behind her.

"I don't know," he said. He tried a few more advanced Unlocking spells but nothing worked. Suddenly the room dimmed. Hermione shook her wand, trying to get it to relight so she could see better. But she realized it wasn't her wand.

She turned around to see that the doors they had entered too had closed. "Did you close those?" she asked, already knowing the answer. He had been standing right behind her. There was little chance he had closed them. A sinking filling of dread filled her. This could not be good.

"No." He strode to the doors and reached for the handle, but nothing happened. "We're locked in," he announced needlessly. He tried all the same spells from before and some more, but nothing worked.

Hermione looked around the room. The only other door was the one they had been investigating. And it was locked too. There were the shelves along the walls and the work bench, but nothing that might help them.

"Can we Apparate out?" she asked. His face took on a look of concentration, his eyes focusing on a spot on the wall behind her. He stayed that way for a few moments, before looking back to her and shaking his head.

"We're stuck."

A chill crept down her back as she pondered the reasons why someone would want to lock something in, or somebody. "It was a little too easy getting in here, don't you think?" she asked, pacing around the table. "I mean 'Open Sesame'?"

"What are you saying?"

"Just that it seems odd that we could get in after only a few tries, but the locking spell doesn't work in the reverse."

"They could have set the door to open after the third or fourth try so it didn't seem too easy and then the doors locked from the outside automatically," Snape said slowly. "Why would they do that though?"

"Look around," Hermione said, pointing to the cauldrons. "Whoever it is needs someone to make potions…"

"And I'm a Potions master," he finished for her.

"Whoever attacked you in the forest didn't hurt you not because you were a Death Eater, but because they needed you alive."

"That's all fine and good, but that doesn't help us out of the situation now," he said irritably. She stopped her pacing in front of the shelf, eyeing a particularly disturbing jar with what looked like a dead baby inside. The dim light cast a distorted shadow, making it look bigger and worse than it really was.

She considered his words, concentrating on the shadow. And then it dimmed again. Tilting her head to the side, she looked at it confused. The light in her wand hadn't gone out, which meant…

"The window!" she cried, turning and pointing to a small slit near the ceiling. Clouds drifting by had obscured the little sunlight that had gotten through it.

"Is twenty feet up and too small to get through," he said sharply.

"Good thing I've lost some weight then, isn't it? I can do it."

"Leaving me in here," he said suspiciously. She shook her head.

"We know we can get in. It's the getting out that's a problem. I'll open the door from the outside and let you out."

He didn't answer. She started pushing the workbench against the wall, but it was a heavy table. It budged only an inch. She looked to him with a pleading look. "Please help."

With a roll of his eyes and a flick of his wand, the table moved effortlessly to the wall. Hermione blushed red at having forgetting to use her wand. Too excited about the possibility of escape and she forgot herself.

"Now what?" he asked.

"You stand on the table. Then I'll stand on your shoulders and squeeze through the window." He looked her up and down while he appraised her plan. After a long moment, he nodded his head in agreement. She sighed in relief. It felt good to have a plan, she thought as she sipped her Strengthening Potion.

He climbed up on the table, and then reached down a hand to help her up. They both hesitated a moment, considering the best way to get Hermione on Snape's shoulders.

"I'll just…"

"Here try…"

She laughed nervously while his scowl deepened. They finally decided on him crouching down. She stepped first onto his knees and then scrambled up further, gripping the stone walls like her life depended on it. Actually, her life did depend on it.

"Just a bit higher," she said, her fingers just grazing the edge of the windowsill.

"And just how do you suggest I accomplish that?" She gripped the wall tighter as he swayed a bit.

"I'll step on your hands and you lift me up higher," she suggested. She thought she heard him snort at the idea, but it might have just been from the exertion of having her stand on his shoulders.

"As much as I'm flattered by your confidence in my brute strength, I'm afraid that's out of the question," he grunted, shifting again. She breathed in sharply, trying hard to maintain her balance. And then an idea came to her.

"Here," she said, reaching into her pocket carefully. She took out the vial of Strengthening potion. "Reach your hand up."

"You couldn't have thought of this earlier?" he complained.

"Shut up and drink it." She placed it in his hand and then clung to the windowsill again as he tipped into his mouth. Then suddenly without warning he grabbed her ankles and lifted her higher. There was no glass, just a small square cut out of the stone, and she grabbed at the opposite ledge. Snape let go of her, leaving her there to hang, flopping around like a fish on a hook.

"Can you make it?" he yelled up at her.

"I think so," she grunted, squeezing her eyes closed when she glimpsed the ground far below. She was so worried about reaching the window that she hadn't stopped to think how she would get down. But it was too late now. Taking a deep breath, she wiggled and squirmed until she popped through, falling to the grass twenty feet below. She landed with a bounce, making her thankful to be a witch. She would have some bruises, but she would live.

Hurrying around to the front as fast as she could with her sore legs, she tried the same spells they had used before in the same order. Nothing happened.

She tried one more spell. It worked this time, the doors swinging open. Snape bolted out, grabbed her around the waist and Apparated them back home. Neither one of them wanted to be there any longer than they needed to. Who knew when the owner might show up?

* * *

Snape prowled around the darkened room like a caged animal. It hadn't felt so oppressive until Hermione had slid out of the window above him. He watched her go, wondering with dread, if she really could get him out. Would she even if she could? Or would he wait there for hours, only to have Aurors waiting when the doors finally opened?

She had promised him last night. And she hadn't brought back Aurors when she returned the first time. There was no reason to believe that she would this time. But he couldn't help but think that this was a mistake. All of it. His heart thudded in his chest and the collar of his shirt began to feel tight. And then the doors opened, with only Hermione standing there, looking as relieved as he felt. He didn't waste his time getting out of there.

"I did it!" she said with a cheeky smile as they landed on his doorstep.

"You're a know-it-all swot," he said, not letting her go. If anything, he pulled her closer.

"Who saved your life. Are we even now?"

He snorted. "Hardly. The only danger was that of going batty at being locked up with you long-term."

"You're impossible," she accused him. But she smiled, and her eyes sparkled. The adrenaline from their misadventure still rushed through their veins. If there was a moment to kiss her, then this was it. He angled his head and she mimicked his movement. His hands moved around to her waist and along her hips, holding her steady. His head floated closer, and she closed her eyes as his lips descended to hers. But they never got there.

"What's this?" he asked, his hands stumbling over a bulge in her pocket and distracting him from his real purpose. It felt like a potion bottle, but she had given him her Strengthening potion earlier. He reached in and pulled out a crystal vial with a clear liquid shimmering inside.

She furrowed her brow, looking disappointed at the delay, but he would rectify that later. First, he wanted to know what and why she was stealing from him.

"Veritaserum," she answered. Snatching it back, she opened the door and let herself in. "I hoped to make casual conversation with the headmistress of the school about enrolling my daughter, and then over tea or water or whatever she offered us to drink, I was going to get answers out of her. Without making her or anyone else suspicious."

The accusation in her tone was obvious. "What do you mean?" he asked sharply.

"Only that now people will have seen us in the school without anyone remembering why we were there," she said, wheeling around to face him. He had to admit that she had a point. Except that he wouldn't, so he changed the subject instead.

"You're looking very tired. Perhaps you should lie down before tea." There was little chance he was getting that kiss now. Maybe when she was rested and in a better mood, he could try again.

"I'll take that as a 'you're absolutely right, Hermione. I'm an ass who's better at intimidating people than actually investigating something.'"

He narrowed his eyes, a scathing remark on how her own investigating skills had almost gotten her killed, when she frowned and spoke again. "I'm sorry. I am tired. I think I will lie down."

He only nodded as she hobbled into the bedroom, closing the door behind her. He sat down on the couch, rubbing at his temples. Why did he stop when he had the chance to kiss her? And what was that comment about his investigative skills? He was a spy, a double agent. He knew how to get information. For years, his survival depended on the reliability of his information.

He knew one thing. The more information the better. And he would prove it to Hermione. But first, they needed to find out what was in that shack. He stood up, going to his potions cabinets and started assembling bottles of ingredients.

* * *

Hermione awoke feeling groggy, like someone had filled her head with cement, reminding her why she didn't often take naps.

Wandering into the main room, she found Snape brewing. He must have snuck in and changed his clothes while she slept, because he stood at his workbench over a potion, looking very much like the potions master she remembered from school, and not the middle aged, well-dressed Muggle man she had been with earlier in town.

"What are you doing?" she asked while she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

"A potion to break through that second lock," he said, not bothering to look up.

"You want to go back?" she asked incredulously. In school she never could have imagined a scared Snape, but standing in that small laboratory with him as he realized that it had all been set as a trap for him, she realized that he most certainly felt fear, even if he hid it extremely well.

"Something was in that locked room. The more information we have about our enemy, the better prepared we are to defeat him."

"Or her," she added. He scowled. She glared.

"Or her," he said reluctantly.

"But none of the spells we used worked. It probably only opens to his or hers voice or a specific password, and there's no hope we'll be able to guess what that is. Plus there's the whole locked in problem."

"One of us can wait outside while the other uses a potion to melt through the lock."

"How does it work?" she asked, coming up beside him and peering in. He looked down at her with a withering look. He obviously didn't like anyone messing around his potions.

"It melts through the metal."

"Oh," she said for the lack of anything else to say. Her head still felt a little muddled. She searched around in her pocket for her Strengthening Potion until she remembered she had given the rest of it to Snape in the shack.

"Indeed. Now budge over so I can get back to work," he said, nudging her out of the way.

"What's that?" she asked, pointing to a jar that looked like it held pickled fingers.

"Ingredients," he said shortly. He stared down at her. She watched the potion while he watched her. She sat down on the stool next to him. He kept one eye on her while he moved about the room collecting ingredients, cutting them up, and throwing them into the cauldron. She thought he seemed distracted though.

She saw it coming before it happened, not sure the mixture was supposed to be bubbling quite as enthusiastically as it was. Unfortunately it was only seconds before, not enough time to warn Snape that his potion was about to erupt. She did manage to turn around before the lumpy green goo exploded up and out of the cauldron. Snape wasn't as lucky. Grabbing a cloth from by the sink, she ignored his cursing and approached him carefully.

"Here," she offered. "Let me." He wheeled around and glared at her. Hermione raised her hand and sponged the potion from his face. "It doesn't have anything corrosive in it, does it?"

"No," he grumbled, stilling under her touch. "I hadn't got to that step before it exploded." She inched closer to get the glop from his temple, trying hard to ignore the intensity in his eyes as he stared down at her.

Suddenly she felt his hand grabbing her wrist. Her eyes met his in surprise, but before she could ask him what was wrong, he tugged her closer still and kissed her. It took a few moments, but finally overcoming the initial shock, she relaxed into his touch and kissed him back. He really was quite good at it.

Encouraged by her response, Snape released her wrist and wrapped his arms around her. She moved her hands up his arms and around her neck. Hermione didn't notice that he had spun her around until she felt the workbench pressing into her back. He paused to lift her up on the table and step between her legs before kissing her again. All the frustration of the last several weeks and indeed for him, the last years, flowed out between them.

Hermione was enjoying the feel of his tongue caressing her own when she heard a knock on the door.

"I think someone is at the door," she murmured in between kisses.

"Impossible," he answered. But the knocking came again, more persistent this time. There was no mistaking that someone was at the door. Snape rested his forehead against hers and cursed. Hermione slid her hands from around his neck down to his chest.

"Go on, it's probably just the paper boy or something."

"I don't get the paper. And there are supposed to be Anti-Muggle charms on this place," he grumbled.

He left her on the table and stalked over to the door to look through the peephole. Hermione was both disappointed at the interruption and thankful for it at the same time. The feel of his hot moist mouth on her own had been intoxicating. It had been a long time since anyone had kissed her with such passion. It was dangerous. He was dangerous, and she needed to remember that.

"Bleeding Muggles! What do they want at this hour?"

Hermione hopped down and joined him at the door. "There's only one way to find out," she said.

"I don't imagine you're referring to Imperio or Veritaserum, are you?" he asked with a scowl. Hermione returned his sour look with a glare. He threw open the door and turned his scowl on the three men standing there. They all wore suits and looked very official. They also looked positively frightened.

"What do you want?" Snape barked.

"We need to ask you some questions, Mr. Snape," the man at the front said. He was short and stout, with a bushy mustache that looked like a caterpillar had taken up residence on his face just between his lips and nose.

"Ask away."

"Can we come in?"

"No!"

Hermione imagined the nightmare that would be. She turned around and tried to see what the little house would look like to a Muggle, with the dishes in the sink washing themselves, the little radio on the counter dancing a jig to the music playing on the Wizarding Wireless Network, and Snape's ruined potion dripping from most surfaces, his cauldron still smoking. She doubted it would be with the same wonder and fascination she had felt the first time she had seen Hogwarts.

"Then you'll have to come down to the station," the man said, his voice quivering slightly. Hermione knew how he felt. Snape could be downright terrifying when he was upset or frustrated. And being interrupted while snogging definitely qualified as frustrating. She decided it was time to intervene before the International Statue of Secrecy was broken…again.

"He will answer your questions, but not tonight. We will be happy to come down to the station tomorrow morning," she said. All four men turned to look at her, the three outside just realizing that she was there. "We were just sitting down to dinner," she explained with a smile. She reached for Snape's hand, entwining her fingers into his.

"And who are you?" the police officer asked.

"A friend come to visit." She didn't like the way he was looking her up and down, and from the expression on Snape's face neither did he.

"Dressed in the same bizarre clothes as he is," the tall man behind him muttered. Hermione glared at him, satisfied to see him blush at being heard.

"We'll see you tomorrow morning, gentlemen," she said, backing up so Snape could close the door. He did, with a bit more force than was actually necessary.

He turned and looked at her. "We'll answer their questions tomorrow?"

"It will be a good way to find out just what they know. I doubt the Muggle authorities have any leads we don't, but just in case, I think we should go down there tomorrow and answer their questions."

He nodded in agreement as he reached out pulled her against him. One hand snaked around her waist, pulling her flush against his body, while the other cupped her head so that he could continue where they had left off. Hermione had enjoyed their previous activity but the police at the door had afforded her a moment to clear her head and consider the matter. They needed to discuss things first.

"I thought we were going to eat dinner?" she asked before he could kiss her.

"They won't know if we skip straight to dessert," he said as his lips descended onto hers. Her body betrayed her as she eagerly responded, her hands fisting in his robes in order to pull him closer. It had been such a long time. Ron had been the last person to kiss her and it had never been anything like this.

"Is this a good idea?" she managed to rasp out while he ravaged her mouth. Her mind could not remain quiet and just let her enjoy herself. It was what had gotten her into trouble in the past with relationships. Why could she not just give into the moment?

"Is it ever a good idea?" he asked as his lips made a hot trail up her jaw to her ear. His hands moved restlessly at her waist, inching slowly upward.

"Of course!" she answered even as she tilted her head to the side to allow him better access. "If two people love and care for each other. And they are well suited to each other. If the relationship has the potential to go somewhere." None of which Snape fit and was exactly all the reasons why she shouldn't stand here and let him kiss her like this.

"I have lived in this shack, alone—"he emphasized—"and I will not be wasting this opportunity any longer," he growled, returning to her mouth. She suppressed a moan as he bit at her lower lip

"What about the mess?" she asked.

"We can clean it up later," he grunted, but then he pulled away from her, taking a step back her. "Do you want to stop?"

"No…I just…What happens afterwards?"

"Don't women like to cuddle?" he said with a sneer. Hermione frowned at him, her eyes flashing. That wasn't what she meant and he knew it. She stepped forward, bringing her chest to chest with Snape.

"I will not be your plaything simply because I'm convenient," she hissed. They stayed staring at each other for several long moments, but then he turned away with a huff and Hermione stalked off to the bedroom.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading. Please review and let me know what you think!


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

_There is a quake that rips the soul asunder...it is the pain of remembering_

'That could have gone better,' Severus thought as he watched Hermione storm from the room. He never had been one to mince words, and his skills in wooing women had never been superb. But the years spent in solitude had not improved them.

It appeared that seducing Hermione Granger would take more than just kissing her into oblivion. The years between women had been too long. He'd forgotten that, despite whatever talents he might possess in the physical arena, there was the emotional one to navigate as well. He had let his libido do his thinking for him. He wondered if he should hurry into the bedroom after her now or wait.

Wait, definitely wait. To go in there now, he reasoned, would sound too much like an apology. And he was not sorry for kissing her tonight, not sorry at all. In fact, he'd like to do more, more than once. He been going about it all wrong, he realized. He'd only been thinking of tonight. He needed to think ahead. If he wanted a willing partner, he would have to put her first. Strategy—he needed a strategy.

What did women like? There was jewelry of course, but was too expensive. Chocolate came to mind, but he had been in town enough the last few days and he didn't feel like venturing back in tonight. Compliments, if he remembered correctly, worked just as well and sometimes better than gifts, and were much cheaper. Yes, a few nicely placed, flattering words would fix this blunder.

Busying himself with cleaning up the spilled potion and dinner, he thought up inventive and sincere sounding compliments he could use. He came up with a long list while he washed dishes. There was her quick wit. And her utter determination combined with her hopeless idealism that drove him crazy, and yet drew him to her at the same time. And her soft lips. He imagined there were other parts of her, just as soft, that he could come to like just as well. Now he just needed to tell her.

He managed to wait three hours before he ventured into the bedroom to find Hermione. Entering the bedroom, he found that she had Transfigured his desk in the corner into a bed. 'Impressive,' he thought, noticing how she had used his papers to make the bed sheets. She snored softly, so she wasn't losing any sleep over him. A part of him had hoped she would be up fretting on how to make things right with him.

Crawling into bed, he stretched out, trying to exult in the extra space her absence gave him. But it just felt odd. He listened to the even rhythm of her breathing and went over his plan to kiss her again, finally falling asleep.

* * *

Hermione stormed into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. She felt horribly embarrassed and confused. She had only wanted a moment to think things through. With her attention focused on solving this mystery, she hadn't had much time to process the feelings for Snape that somehow had crept up on her. Pacing the room, his words echoed in her head.

_"What happens afterwards?"_

_"Don't women like to cuddle?"_

It was a cruel and degrading thing to say to her after kissing her like that. After tending to her for weeks like he might care about her.

'Is that all what he wants?' she despaired. 'A quick shag?'

'Is that what I want?'

The memory of his touch burned, and she tried not to think too hard about how nice his kisses had been. It had been so long since she had any comfort of that kind. But she had ruined any hope of working effectively with him on this, and Hermione wasn't sure she could do it without him.

She gave a frustrated sigh and punched the pillow on the bed. She couldn't sleep here. But she also couldn't go back to the hotel. Maybe she could stay somewhere in a town nearby. Looking around the room, she saw a small desk pushed into the corner, covered in parchments and books. With a wave of her wand, the desk became a cot and the papers bed sheets.

She laid down, pulling the covers up to her chin, forced herself to think of anything but Snape. She went over every detail of the case – mutilated animals, a missing man, a missing child, and an abandoned potions lab with a locked door.

An abandoned potions lab – maybe that was the key they were missing. Maybe their mysterious wizard wanted a Dark potion brewed. If they could figure out what it was, then it could lead them to him…or her, she thought.

She ran through every potion she could think of, from Pepperup to a Deflating Draught, but nothing that a new Dark Lord might want or use. She simply didn't have the extensive Potions knowledge needed to figure out such a puzzle. But she knew someone who did.

Which brought her back to the one person she had been trying to forget. Snape.

Groaning, she rolled over and tried to count sheep instead. Tomorrow she would bring up her theory and hope that he forgot their argument. She just couldn't handle romance at the moment.

Severus bolted awake at the sound of a crash echoing through the small room. He grabbed his wand and pointed it in the direction of the noise, but put it down just as quickly as he took it up when he realized it was only Hermione. Apparently, her Transfiguration skills only lasted so long. Actually, he was surprised it had lasted this long.

"Bloody hell, are you okay?" he asked.

"Fine," came the choked reply. He heard rustling and then a thud of something crashing to the floor, followed soon after by a low groan. Severus swung his feet over the side of the bed and grabbed his dressing robe.

He lit the lamps in the room, the light showing Hermione lying in the floor, the desk overturned on her legs and covered in his parchments. She had tears in her eyes and her breaths came in short gasps. This was his chance to make things right. Surely, she would be grateful for saving her.

Quickly, he lifted the desk back into its proper place against the wall, and then knelt down beside her.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, lifting the legs of her pajama pants up to survey the damage.

"Of course it hurts you great big bloody bat! It hurts like hell! It hurt before a huge wooden desk toppled over on my legs!" she screeched. She batted his hands away. "Don't touch me!"

"It wouldn't hurt if you had just come to bed like normal," he retorted, leaning back on his heels in an attempt to avoid her swats. She didn't say another word, but just turned on her side away from him.

He stood up, looking down at her for a moment. She looked pathetic, lying in the middle of the floor with no blanket or pillow. A few tears had escaped her eyes and ran down her cheeks, but her jaw was firmly set. This was going to be more difficult than Severus had first imagined.

Leaving her there on the floor, he left the room and went in search of her potions. He found them lining the counter of the bathroom sink, four bottles in various shapes and sizes right next to her toothbrush, hair comb, and other toiletries. She had taken over. Grabbing two, he went back into the bedroom.

He found she had given up on the floor, crawling towards the bed on her arms, her legs lifeless behind her. Despite his resolution to use softer words, he found himself resorting back to his old habits. His goodwill didn't extend to being awakened abruptly in the middle of the night and then sniped at.

"Over your tantrum now?"

"Go to hell, Snape."

"I'm sure I will, but right now I'm going to administer these potions to you, tuck you into bed, and then go back to sleep."

"I'm fine. I don't need your help," she protested as he set the potions down on the bedside table, and then turned to her. Rolling his eyes, he leaned down and pulled her up to standing. With his arm around her waist, he escorted her back to bed.

He stood by and watched as she drank the two potions. When she finished, he took her legs and pulled her pajamas up. Already dark bruises were starting to form. She kicked at his hand when he tried to get a closer look.

"I told you don't touch me!"

"Calm down, you silly girl," he said, clamping down hard on her legs and glaring at her. Her sudden gasp provoked a stab of guilt when he realized he was hurting her. He let go.

"I'm not silly," she hissed.

"But you are irrational, in part from the pain and lack of sleep. If you let me, I can remedy both. May I?" He gestured towards her legs. She sniffled, nodding her head. He leaned in and looked, making sure not to touch her again.

He knew she felt a lingering aching pain from the curse, and this would not help. He had a salve that would ease the discomfort some. He Summoned it from his potions cabinet. It flew through the door and he caught it easily in his hand.

"I'm going to apply this directly," he told her. He waited until she nodded her assent before he attempted it despite the firmness of his tone. Very gently, he rubbed the salve into the blotchy portions of her skin.

"Does that feel better?" he asked.

"It tingles," she said meekly, the fight in her gone now.

"That means it's working."

She nodded, leaning back on the pillow, her eyes drifting closed. The stress of her recovery, the investigation, and their earlier argument had frayed her nerves. Severus worried about her. Perhaps this would be a good time for those compliments.

"I hope you didn't interpret my fervor earlier this evening to mean that I am only interested in your physical assets," he told her, sitting on the bed beside her. He reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, counting it as a small victory that she didn't shrug away from his touch, though she did open her eyes.

"You have a lot to offer a man," he continued.

"Such as?"

He took the hand closest to him and held it loosely in his own. "You're a warm, bright, and determined woman."

"And?"

He chuckled, a low grumble in the back of his throat. She looked at him curiously. "I don't find you as irritating as most of humanity."

"A high compliment indeed," she said. He could see she attempted to scowl, but the corners of her lips curled upward and betrayed her hidden smile.

"Indeed." He leaned in. Her eyes drifted shut as his lips descended on hers, but at the last possible moment, she turned her head and he made contact with the soft skin of her cheek instead.

"We should get some sleep. We have a full day tomorrow," she whispered.

"Yes, of course." He pulled back slowly, taking the few precious seconds he had to feel her cheek against his. She kept her eyes closed until he got up from the bed, watching as he made his way back to his side.

"Goodnight," she said softly, arranging herself into the same tight ball she slept in every night. He wished she would let him hold her. It would be a comfort to them both.

"Goodnight," he answered, wondering how much sleep he would actually get. This was going to be harder than he thought. He hoped he hadn't done irreparable damage with his earlier impatience. Only time would tell.

* * *

Hermione woke up the next morning in pain. Her entire body, but especially her legs ached. The memory of being humiliated in front of Snape for the second time that night only made things worse. Although, he had said some nice things to her, but still, how could she face him this morning? By pretending the best she could that none of it had ever happened, she decided. With that in mind, she grabbed her cane and shrugged on her dressing gown.

Hobbling into the main room, she found Snape at the table reading his morning paper and eating breakfast. The smell of sausages enticed her to join him.

"Good morning," she said a little too brightly. He looked up at her with a surprised look.

"Good morning."

"We shouldn't dawdle this morning. We did tell the police officers last night we'd be around to answer their questions today." She poured herself some coffee and then grabbed a plate and began buttering some toast.

"I believe I'm the one who's already up, dressed, and has had breakfast," Snape said sharply. Hermione blushed.

"Right, I'll just hurry up then," she said, shoving the toast in her mouth. She hurried through breakfast and dressed as quickly as she could with stiff limbs. Snape must have noticed her discomfort, or perhaps he wasn't inclined to hear anymore whinging from her after last night, because he had a vial of a Pain Reliever Potion waiting for her when she emerged from the bedroom, dressed and ready to go.

"It shouldn't make you drowsy," was all he said in response to her meek thanks before ushering her out the door.

They Apparated to the edge of town, but instead of wrapping her in his arms like he had done before, he took her by the elbow, almost as if he wished not to touch her. It stung that so soon after kissing her passionately that he would go back to treating her with disdain. But what did she expect when she refused him not once but twice in one night. Besides, that wasn't important. What they might possibly learn from the Muggle authorities was.

They arrived at the police station, greeted by the officer with the bushy mustache. He introduced himself as Detective Hannigan.

"This way please," he said, grabbing some files from his desk and guiding them to a small dingy room with nothing but a table and four chairs.

"Can we make this quick?" Snape asked sharply. "We have pressing engagements today."

"Is that so?" Hannigan said skeptically.

"Yes," Snape answered tersely. He pulled out the chair and motioned for Hermione to sit. When she was settled, he sat in the chair next to her, his steely gaze never leaving the detective.

"Well, I wouldn't want to keep you. What can you tell me about this?" Hannigan said with a sneer, sitting across from them. He opened the file and slid it towards them. On top lay a photograph of a young girl.

Hermione gasped. She assumed that this was the missing girl, Emily, but instead of a sweet young girl, there was instead a bloodied corpse with a gaping hole in the chest. Only the shredded ribbons still tied on the ends of two dark brown plaits hinted that the bloody mess of flesh had once been an innocent girl.

Snape placed a comforting hand on her knee, even as he released his habitual vitriol on the detective. "What is this?"

"You don't know?" Hannigan asked sarcastically. Tears blurred Hermione's eyes as she shook her head. She knew what she had been dealing with before, but this picture, this little girl, suddenly drove it home that they were dealing with evil, real evil. The photo reminded her of sights she had seen during the war, images she had tried very hard to forget.

"We've never seen this girl in our lives," Snape said. Hermione wondered at how he could be so unaffected.

"Then why were you at the local primary school yesterday asking about her?"

"We had heard she had gone missing. My friend here is a detective from London. She's here investigating another case that might be connected."

Hannigan turned his attention to Hermione. He looked her up and down, his eyes narrowing. "Why didn't you contact the local authorities when you first arrived?" he asked, not bothering to hide the bitterness in his tone.

"I didn't think it that important really," Hermione stammered, searching for an excuse. "I was sent by my boss on a very farfetched lead. I think he was trying to get rid of me more than anything else." That was close enough to the truth to be believable, she thought, though Hannigan still looked doubtful.

"And you thought that Emily's disappearance might be connected?"

"Yes," she said. Catching another glimpse of the photo, she shook her head. "But not now. I was looking into a kidnapping ring. There's no evidence that they've escalated t—to this."

Snape's hand moved from her knee to her hand, squeezing it tightly in silent comfort.

"You have your answers now. Unless you have any other evidence against us, then we would like to go," he said, releasing her hand and standing. Hannigan glared at him. Snape only glared back.

"If we have any other questions, we reserve the right to haul you back in here," Hannigan said with a sneer.

"Fine," Snape said, taking Hermione by the arm and leading her out of the room.

"What now?" he asked when they got outside. Hermione didn't know. Her legs felt like jelly and they still ached despite the potion he had given her. She felt nauseous and a sudden pounding pain had popped up behind her right eye.

"I—I'm not sure," she said.

"Are you well?" he asked. He placed an arm about her waist to steady her.

"No," she admitted. "No, I'm not. Can we go home?"

"I think that's a good idea. I can put the finishing touches on yesterday's potion while you rest." His hand still around her, he led her to the alleyway, where he Apparated them home.

* * *

Severus hurried Hermione out of the police station. He couldn't bear to see that photo any longer, and she looked like she might be sick right there on the table. Not that he could have blamed her. It had been horrible looking at it, dredging up all sorts of memories from the war—things he had seen as well as things he had done.

He was both relieved and worried when she asked to go home, relieved because it afforded him a moment to collect himself, and worried because she looked very pale. Once inside the small shack, she hurried into the bathroom. The sound of her retching nearly did him in. He sat down quickly, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the edge of the chair.

He wouldn't say that he liked children. He didn't like people in general, and they were, after all, just small people. But he hated to see something like that. Maybe it was the years spent as a teacher, entrusted with the welfare of so many young minds, or perhaps because of his distasteful experiences with the Dark Lord, but that photograph had disturbed him deeply.

Pushing it to the furthest corners of his mind, he set about finishing the potion he had started yesterday and had made such a mess of. With Hermione resting in the bedroom, there was little to distract him and he finished it without incident this time. He worked right through lunch. When he finally remembered food, he made two sandwiches, eating one alone in the kitchen and taking one into Hermione. Her soft snores told him she was getting the rest she desperately needed, and instead of waking her, he left the plate on the bedside table.

She woke up hours later, groggy and slightly cranky. He knew she had eaten her sandwich by the crumbs down the front of her shirt, and he berated her for eating it in bed.

"Then just what did you intend when you left it by the bed?" she snapped.

He growled in response, and went back to the book he'd been reading. He wasn't in the mood for another one of her tantrums. She sat on the couch, a book unopened next to her, and stared into the fire. She was still there when he went to bed.

Going through his nightly routine, he climbed into bed (after a Cleaning Spell to get rid of the crumbs.) He waited for Hermione to join him, but she never did. The clock chimed twice and still she hadn't come to bed.

Severus ventured out of the bedroom to find her on the couch. She sat with her head buried in a pillow, but even that wasn't enough to completely muffle her sobs. He knew how she felt. Every time he closed his eyes to sleep, the image of that disfigured girl was there.

Creeping into the kitchen, he set the kettle on. A few minutes later, he had a steaming cup of tea ready. With it in hand, he joined Hermione. He rested a hand on her shoulder, removing it when she jerked. She had been so absorbed in her own misery that she hadn't heard him approaching. She sat up quickly and tried to calm herself, wiping furiously at her eyes.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," she hiccupped.

He ignored her apology and handed her the cup. "Here," he said. "It's chamomile."

She took the cup, blowing on it before taking a tentative sip. "Thank you."

Severus nodded and sank back into the cushions. He watched as she held her teacup and stared at the crackling fire. Her messy mane stuck up at odd angles in some places and stuck adamantly to her head in others. She bit at her lip, obviously deep in thought.

"That picture today," she whispered, almost as if she had heard his silent question. "It was so horrible." Despite the warmth of the fire, he could see that she was shivering.

"But you're an Auror," he argued. "Surely you have seen worse."

She nodded, turning her gaze towards him. The haunted look in her eye unnerved him. This was not the Hermione Granger he knew, who had everything together, who was perpetually calm and collected.

"I suppose I have, but…but not a child. It's starting again," she sniffled. More tears escaping her eyes. He didn't have to ask what. She was remembering the war, the battles, and atrocities she had seen as a teenager. He scooted closer and took the cup away, reaching across her, and setting it on the side table. Then he gathered her into his arms.

He didn't say a word, just held her. He had limited experience with comforting disconsolate women, but he figured that nothing he could say would make it better, so why say anything at all. Just the simple act of stroking her hair and back appeared to be working.

"I can't do this again…not again," she murmured into his chest. "I had Ron and Harry last time. Now I have no one."

That last bit confused him. He couldn't let it pass. "What do you mean no one? Where is Mr. Weasley?" he asked, pushing her back from him so he could see her face, though he kept a firm grip on her upper arms.

"Egypt. When he didn't get accepted into Auror training, we had a big row. He wanted me to join him out there and break curses like him his older brother Bill."

"But you didn't wish to."

"I didn't fight for three years to spend my life and career helping goblins get richer. I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to do some good."

"You hadn't done enough already?" he asked snidely. She had played a major role in the downfall of the Dark Lord, but the overachiever that she was, even that wasn't enough.

"I had wanted to be an Auror since I was a fourth year, and he wanted me to walk away from my dream," she said vehemently. But her ire didn't last long, and she looked down, away from his eyes. "We tried to make it work long distance, but eventually weekend visits were postponed because we were both busy and letters slowed down until they stopped coming."

"How long?"

"It's been five years since I've heard from him. Though occasionally I run into Molly or Arthur and they tell me he's doing great. And of course you know Harry is gone."

He pulled her close again, no longer able to look her in the eye. He felt guilty of depriving her of her only support system. But surely, she had made new friends? He asked her this. He felt her shake her head against him.

"Not really. I mean I have people that I go out with on a Friday night, but no one I can confide in, not really."

Severus nodded. He understood that. Minerva had always invited him along to when the staff gathered at the Three Broomsticks, but he had never felt like he was truly welcome.

"Maybe if you weren't such an irritating swot," he teased, trying to lighten the oppressive mood. She let out a muffled noise, and he wasn't sure if it was laughter or a sob or perhaps an odd combination of both. He rubbed her back and kissed the top of her head, and for a few moments, they sat there quietly.

"Did you kill Harry?" she whispered. He almost didn't catch it, but there it was finally—the question he knew had been eating at her since she had woken up in his tiny shack.

He pushed her back away from, looked her firmly in the eye, and answered, "No."

"But you said…"

"I said that it was very convenient of him to disappear as he did."

"I don't understand," Hermione confessed. Severus sighed. He hadn't meant for her to understand. He had been purposefully cryptic. Potter had done him a favor by not killing him when he found him, and he had repaid that by not saying anything. Not that that hadn't been too terribly difficult seeing as how up until now there had been no one to confess to.

"Potter came looking for me right after he defeated the Dark Lord. Wanted to pay me back for killing the Headmaster and for my part in his parents' death. He wanted to fight me, but I was too tired of running, too tired of fighting, so I laid down my wand and was prepared to let him have at it. It would have been a relief. But he is too noble to murder someone in cold blood. Killing is only okay if you've done it in a certain way," he said snidely, remembering how Potter had screamed at him, calling him a coward.

"He obviously didn't kill you."

"Obviously," he said dryly. "I suggested that perhaps the stress was getting to him. Told him what life would be like for the Boy-Who-Killed-Voldemort. And then I offered him a way out."

"Out?" Hermione asked.

"An uncle on my father's side lives in Aruba. I gave Potter his name and a letter from me. As far as I know, he teaches water skiing to American tourists for a living."

Severus had hoped that this news, that her friend was still alive, would cheer her up, but if anything it appeared to only make things worse. Tears that had dried up while he sat holding her, began anew, and she buried her face in his chest.

"But why didn't he tell anyone?" she wailed.

Severus shook her gently, but looked at her with a stern look. "Have you any idea what it is like to be defined by one moment in your life? One good or bad decision?"

Hermione shook her head. Well, he certainly did, and so did Potter. And after they had done their duty, they had escaped the world they had helped save. He still despised the boy, but standing there watching him rail against the world and him, Severus had realized that they were more alike than he cared to admit.

Besides, with Potter gone, there was no one to testify to the Wizengamot that he had killed Dumbledore. And that was just fine by Severus.

"He was afraid people would follow him and try to convince him to come home," he explained. Hermione continued to sniffle, but she had stopped crying, nodding that she understood. He Summoned a handkerchief for her.

"Thank you," she mumbled before blowing her nose. When she finished, she cast a Cleaning Charm and then lay her head back down on his chest. He was surprised to find her still seeking comfort from him after what he had told her, but he didn't argue, and put his arms around her again. Scooping her up into his arms, he carried her back to bed.

* * *

The day's events had taken more of a toll on her psyche than Hermione would care to admit. The images the police had shown them was almost more than she could handle, and every time she closed her eyes to sleep horrifying images flashed before her eyes—Lavender Brown's mutilated and bloated corpse found in the lake, Bill Weasley's face puffy with deep gashes running down one cheek, rising smoke and dancing flames as her house burned to the ground, a small child, still nearly a baby with glassy empty eyes, the Dark Mark etched into her chest.

She didn't think she could do this again. The first time had been scarring enough. And now she was alone. Ron had left her, and when Snape told her that Harry had gone away of his own free will, leaving her to fend for herself, her heart broke in two. Was there something wrong with her? Why did the people closest to her leave?

But Snape was here. He had listened to her, comforted her, and now he carried her into the bedroom. He tried depositing her on the bed, but she clung to him, pulling him down on top of her. He started to curse, but she cut him off with a kiss.

"I thought you said this was a bad idea?" he grumbled against her mouth, his dark eyes piercing her own.

"No, I asked if it was a good idea," she answered. "And I decided it is." She kissed him again, welcoming his heavy weight that pressed against her and his spicy scent that enveloped her senses. She wanted to feel connected to someone, and even though she knew it would probably only make it more painful when he left her too, it would be worth it to have him right now.

Snape nodded, accepting her reasoning without question, and reached down to pull up her camisole. She raised her arms so that he could pull it over her head, and then laid back down with a sigh as he kissed his way down her collarbone to peaks of her breasts.

He kissed and suckled each in turn while his hands whispered over her stomach and sides. She fumbled under his nightshirt to caress his skin, her hands running up and down his chest, feeling the muscles there. Impatiently, she pulled at the cloth. She wanted contact, no clothing to serve as barriers, no thoughts of the past or future to serve as inhibitions. She wanted him, and she wanted him now.

He paused a moment, sitting up and pulling off his shirt. He tossed it carelessly to the floor, and then turned back to her, his eyes ablaze with desire. Hermione warmed with the pleasure of knowing that he wanted her too. Skin met skin as his mouth descended once more on hers. He kissed her deeply, and her arms came up to wrap around him, pulling him even closer.

Her heart pounded wildly and her breathing quickened as she felt the hard heat of him pressing against her through his cotton pajama pants. She continued kissing him, but shifted her hips a bit so she could reach down to remover her knickers.

"No," he protested, sitting up. Hermione frowned. She thought they both had agreed they wanted to do this. Had he changed his mind?

"Let me," he continued. She nodded, relief washing over her. But she bit her lip when she realized that she had worn her oldest, ugliest pair that day. He pulled off the unsightly garment slowly. His fingers brushed over her skin in a delicate caress as he leaned back and lifted up her feet. The tenderness of the moment was ruined when he smirked at the graying cotton.

"I wasn't planning on seducing you tonight," she said exasperated.

"No?" he asked. She shook her head. "Well, I'm glad you did."

Her knickers joined her camisole and his nightshirt on the floor, and he grasped her ankles, his thumbs making small circles on her skin while his eyes appraised her. Hermione had never felt so vulnerable before in her life. He could crush her with one word if he wanted.

Maybe this isn't such a good idea after all, she thought, tears starting to collect again in the corner of her eyes. It felt like an eternity before he spoke.

"Very nice." He ran his hands up her legs slowly. He looked like an animal getting ready to pounce, his black hair hanging in his face, his eyes boring into hers. Hermione had to push away thoughts that this was a very dangerous man.

"O material?" she asked in an effort to lighten the mood. This wasn't meant to be serious, just a mindless escape, but she was starting to feel overwhelmed.

"Most definitely Exceeds Expectations," he retorted, leaning down and pressing a kiss to her hipbone as his hands circled restlessly on her inner thighs.

She smiled. "I think that's the first compliment you've ever given me."

"Don't get used to it," he said, his mouth moving lower. Hermione gasped as she realized what he planned to do. No man had done that to her before. She sat up quickly, nearly knocking him in the head in the process. He sat up and looked at her in surprise.

"You're still dressed," she said, trailing her fingers down his chest and hooking her fingers under the waistband of his pajama pants. She hoped he hadn't seen her moment of panic. This wasn't meant to be special. She didn't want to remember this night later in the quiet solitude of her empty apartment. That would only make it harder.

She slipped a hand down and stroked him. He seemed ready. There was no reason to prolong the inevitable. She leaned in and kissed his jaw, surprised when he stilled her hand with his own. She looked at him confused.

"It's been a long time since I've done this," he said, motioning his hand between them. "And I want to do it right."

"Is this where you use some sort of potions metaphor about time and patience," she asked sarcastically.

"And proper attention," he added, bringing her hand to his mouth and sucking each finger. Hermione closed her eyes. Who would have ever thought that Severus Snape of all people would be such an attentive lover?

No, not lover. Sex partner. She was using him and he was using her. And then they would go their separate ways. His comforting embrace earlier had been a fluke—the result of a man who had gone too long without human interaction. His tenderness here in the dark of night would be something different come morning. Of this, she had no doubt.

"I never was a fan of Potions," she said. He raised an eyebrow, frowning at her. "I always preferred Charms with its instant results." She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissed him fiercely, and pulled him down on top of her.

He cradled her head in his hands while his tongue twisted and entwined with hers. With his weight settled on top of her, Hermione raised her hips to grind against him, the exquisite pressure in her lower stomach building until it was almost more than she could bear.

"What are you waiting for?" she gasped as he moved to kiss her neck.

"That's the problem with the younger generation these days," he mumbled. "They always want instant gratification." But he reached down to take off the last remaining barrier between them.

Suddenly, he twitched and let out a loud groan. Hermione frowned. He was older for sure, but she hoped things weren't over before they even really began. He had been the one to go on about making it last.

"Damn," he whispered, clutching at his arm.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"No, I'm not alright," he snapped, glaring at her. But his scowl quickly receded and Hermione could see the pain etched across his face.

"It's not your…"

"I think so," he ground out. He held out his arm to her. She gasped. There, even in the low light, she could make out the dark lines of a skull with a snake coming out its mouth on his skin. All traces of the excitement she had felt just moments before fled in an instant, replaced with cold fear.

"B-but what does this mean?"

"I think it means that whatever is up on that mountain is a lot worse than we originally thought," he said. He hissed in pain. Hermione hurried from the bed into the bathroom where he kept his potions bottles. Frantically, she searched for a pain reliever and also a Sleeping Draught.

"Here, drink these," she said, returning with two blue bottles. She uncorked them and handed them to him one by one, then took them back and set them on the nightstand. He laid back, still cradling his arm, his breathing shallow.

"Was it always like this?" she asked. No wonder he had been such a grumpy sod all the way through school if this is what he had to deal with on a regular basis. She envisioned him having to hide the piercing pain while he hurried off school grounds to late night meetings.

"Not usually. Just…the first time…and then at the end," he answered, his eyes clenched shut. "Why now?"

"I don't know," she said. "I don't know." But she was determined to find out. The stakes had just been risen one more notch.

She lay down next to him and stroked his hair until he relaxed and fell into a restless sleep. It was interminably long night as she watched over him. His soft whimpers and the pain etched on his unguarded face served to build a new respect for this man. He had suffered much during the war. They all had, but he more so than others. She understood that now.

* * *

A/N: Figured it out yet? Thanks for reading and please leave a review!


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

_I think we may safely trust a good deal more than we do._  
Henry David Thoreau

In his cold cave, he let out a shout of frustration. "You have failed me yet again!"

Fear twisted the normally lovely features of his servant. "My lord, I have done everything you asked. We've tried taking him by force. We've tried tricking him into capture. And now this…" she stammered, trying to make her case, but he would not hear it.

"Yes, now this. And it has done nothing but drain me further!"

"Give it time, my lord," she argued desperately. "He won't be used to seeing it, not after such a long interlude."

"He never was very faithful."

"Not like me. I've never given up hope, my lord. I will do everything in my power to see you back again," she said, venturing closer and bowing by his side. He let his hand rest on her head.

"You are the most favored," he said in a serious tone. _For now_, he thought.

"Thank you, my lord. I will not fail you."

"See that you don't."

* * *

Severus woke up the next morning to find a very naked Hermione pressed against him with her head tucked under his chin and her hand on his chest, a sight that might have made him a very happy man except for the piercing pain in his arm. He realized he clutched her hand tightly in his, releasing it suddenly in fear that he might be hurting her.

She sighed and rolled away from him, still asleep to his relief. He didn't want to watch her wake with the inevitable falling of her face as she remembered the disappointment from the night before.

Very carefully, he slipped out of the bed, shrugged into his dressing gown, and padded out to the kitchen. The pain in his arm fogged his vision as he rustled through his potions bottles. His trembling fingers knocked over a neighboring vial, sending it crashing to the ground where it shattered into a hundred pieces.

Severus cursed, but left it on the floor, downing the bottle he had come for with a sense of urgency. A murky haze descended as the liquid traveled through his veins. It dulled the pain only slightly but his brain told him it no longer mattered, nothing did really.

Making his way to the couch, he sat in a drugged stupor and contemplated the situation. It was not good. There was only one person who had the power to activate his Dark Mark and he died years ago.

Or had he? If anyone could evade death then it was Tom Riddle. But how had he managed it again? And how had he come back? The questions swirled around in his brain with no answers in sight. One thing was for sure, he couldn't stay here. His arm hurt like hell and putting some distance between him and whatever had activated it could only help.

Hermione came out of the bedroom while he sat listing places he wouldn't mind escaping to. She carried a bag that looked vaguely familiar in her free hand, her cane clicking on the hardwood floor.

"What are you doing?" he asked. He recognized the valise in her hand as one that he kept shoved under the bed. Three more bags floated behind her.

"I packed your stuff. You just need to grab the potions ingredients you can't live without, we can eat, and then be on our way."

"On our way where exactly?" he demanded.

She furrowed her brow. "My flat in London. This is beyond what we can do alone. We need reinforcements."

"We," he said with emphasis, "do not need anything. You need reinforcements. All that I require is a Pain Relieving Potion and maybe a bottle of firewhisky." And a portkey to Australia, he thought. London wasn't nearly far enough away for his tastes.

"You can't stay here," she argued, dropping the bag and approaching him on the couch. The bags behind her fell to the floor with a clatter.

"I have stayed here for years. I don't see what the difference is now," he said, trying to hide his wince as another shot of pain pierced up through his forearm. His potion was starting to wear off, not that it had been that effective to begin with. Added to that was the fact that he didn't like the idea of Hermione Granger seeing him weak and vulnerable like this, which only made him even grumpier, especially after last night's embarrassment.

"How's your arm?" she asked. She didn't bother waiting for his answer, but grabbed his sleeve and pulled it closer.

"No!" he said, yanking it back. He didn't want her looking at it. He tried not to look at it himself. It was an ugly reminder of who and what he had been.

"Does it still hurt?" She moved her hand away but she looked at him full of concern and pity. She hadn't looked at him like that last night. Last night her eyes had shone with desire. Now they were dull with disappointment. He was not to be her hero, but a bag of stones round her neck dragging her down.

"It's fine," he ground out. It was a lie. It still burned, from his forearm up his shoulder and radiating out through his chest.

"You're lying."

"Don't call me a liar," he snapped.

"I don't see why not," she responded with a brittle laugh. "You've been one since the day I first met you. Now I'm going in here and making breakfast and then we are Apparating to London and I won't take no for an answer."

She hobbled off to the kitchen while Severus sat brooding, watching as eggs flew from the icebox to the skillet. The irritating little swot! How dare she talk to him like that?

Last night had been a mistake, he decided. Kissing her had been a mistake. Miss Granger was quite possibly the most irritating human being he had ever encountered and there was no way in hell he would be accompanying her to London.

* * *

Snape hadn't protested nearly as much as Hermione had envisioned while she packed up some of his potion bottles to leave, just a little whinging and then just some scowling while she made breakfast. She had expected at the very least some hexes thrown her way. His arm must hurt more than she imagined. The best thing they could do was to get out of this place and recruit help before whoever or whatever it was that had triggered Snape's Dark Mark gained even more strength.

She tried not to stare at his pinched face and hunched shoulders while the eggs for their breakfast cooked. Last night had been about revelations. Now she knew what had happened to Harry. And she knew how much Snape had suffered.

She could only hope that their current distraction would make him forget any embarrassing advances she had made, especially as it was obvious to her now that they were unwanted.

After breakfast, she hurried the two of them outside where after a swig of Strengthening Potion she Apparated them back to her flat. A stale smell greeted them, and she noticed that Snape turned a slight shade of green. Quickly, she Banished her forgotten trash bins outside to the curb, and looked around for a can of air freshener.

"Sorry about that," she apologized, spraying all around them in the small kitchen and living room. Small drops of overly sweet smelling mist wetted her already frizzy hair. He shook his head without a word and wrinkled his nose at the potpourri scent.

"Where's the bed?" he snarled. Hermione pointed him down the hallway towards her small bedroom. She opened the suitcases and gathered up the Pain Relieving Potions he might need and followed him down the corridor.

"These are right here for when you need them," she said, placing the vials on the bedside table. Once she had him settled in then she planned on going directly to the Ministry for additional Aurors to take back north with her. "Do you need anything else?"

"No." His answer was curt. He lay down on the bed and kicked off his shoes. She leaned over and pulled up.

"Are you sure? I'm going out."

"Somehow I managed in the thirty years before you came along," he answered. Hermione almost didn't catch his reply as she hurried from the room.

Twenty minutes later and she was at the Ministry. She hurried through the main arboretum as fast as she could with her cane clicking beside her.

"Hermione!" she heard Abby cry. "I haven't seen you around in awhile. Where have you been?"

"No time to talk now," Hermione said quickly, barely taking the time to make eye contact. She slid into the lift just as the door closed, leaving her friend outside with a disappointed look on her face. Hermione didn't think about it, but focused on what she would say to Eckhert. Getting off the lift, she made her way to his office.

"He can't see you now," the secretary said, without even looking up from her nails.

"This is of the utmost importance," Hermione insisted. At hearing her voice, the secretary glanced up and an evil smirk spread across her face like a Cheshire cat.

"Then by all means, go on in. I would hate to delay something important." Somehow Hermione got the impression that she meant quite the opposite, but she didn't care so long as she got what she came here to get. Without a moment's hesitation, she strode into Eckhert's office.

He sat at his desk, twirling his thick mustache with his beefy fingers and staring at several documents spread across his desk. "Ethel, I don't understand what I'm looking at. Who did you say these were from again?" he said. Looking up, he realized Hermione was not Ethel. He turned bright red and jumped to his feet.

"Granger!" he yelled. "Where the hell have you been?"

"On suspension, sir," she answered.

"Right, you've been suspended. Which is why I'm puzzled about why I'm receiving Dark Spell incident reports from the field with your signature on them. Only your signature, I might add," he said.

Hermione cringed. She thought for sure she had destroyed the document, but then remembered they were Indestructible just in case an Auror met with a Dark wizard and didn't have time to submit it properly.

"That's what I'm here about actually. Did you read the report, sir? It clearly shows that there is a growing presence in the north hills of Scotland, especially in that area, if we had more Aurors I think we could—"

"Enough!" Eckhert said loudly, cutting Hermione off. "I'm not sending more Aurors to an area of the country I expressly forbade you from returning to."

"But sir, an elderly man has gone missing and a little girl was slaughtered. Surely that is enough to warrant—"

"It's the business of the Muggle authorities to look into, not witches and wizards. We have enough to keep us busy without having to worry about their criminals too. We lost Mulciber's lead because you weren't here to help with the investigation."

Hermione restrained herself from reminding him that she hadn't been here because he had suspended her, but only because she didn't think it would help. "But if a new Dark Lord is trying to establish himself then—"

"There is no evidence of that!" Eckhert exclaimed, growing red in the face.

"Only because you won't let me collect any," Hermione retorted.

"Don't be impertinent, Granger!"

"But sir—"

"Get out of my office. I don't want to see you here for another two weeks, do you understand."

"But—"

"NOW!" he yelled. He threw himself back in his chair and spun around so that he faced the wall. It was obvious that this conversation was over. Hermione stormed from the room.

There was no talking to that man! What did it take to get his attention? She pretended not to know the answer but deep in her heart she knew. It would take a witch or wizard dying before he faced the truth. She liked to tell herself that attitudes toward Muggles had changed since Harry had defeated Voldemort, but it was an illusion.

"Auror Granger!" the secretary called after her as she walked by. Hermione turned and looked at her. She looked positively smug and Hermione wondered just how much, if not all, of the conversation she had overheard.

"Yes?"

"I just wanted to remind you that your yearly medical exam is overdue and you know that without it, well, you could be suspended," at this she raised her eyebrows, "or even terminated."

"But I had my exam two months ago!" Hermione exclaimed. She had it a month early in fact.

"Oh, you did?" the secretary said, her sincerity obviously affected. "I must have lost the paperwork. I would suggest getting that done very soon. Here's the form." She handed Hermione a purple piece of paper with a large smile, then turned back to her typewriter with a giggle.

Hermione stormed from the office, shoving the paper into her pocket with little thought. That stupid exam was the last thing she needed at the moment. And that bloody cow hadn't lost her paperwork, she had probably misplaced it on purpose!

But she had other things to think about. Such as who she could go to next, to get the help she needed. And then it occurred to her. Percy Weasley.

* * *

Snape's mood had not improved despite more potions and a nap, though his arm was starting to feel better. He no longer grimaced in pain at every small movement, for example.

But though he felt marginally better, he wasn't exactly sure what Granger expected him to do while she gallivanted around on the town, now that she had him here. Her combination of food and strident tones that promised only to stop when he got to London were enough to convince that he should accompany her at least this far.

He poked around the kitchen and made himself lunch, and then sat down to investigate her expansive library. Even if she could convince the Ministry to put more Aurors on the case, they still had to find the bastard. And if they knew what he wanted, then they could better predict his moves. The hidden laboratory in the woods made him suspect that it was a potion.

But what potion required a missing old man, a dead girl, and a mutilated cow? Severus wasn't even sure they were related. Hermione hadn't performed her Detection spell where the Muggle police had found Emily. And the cow looked horrible, but it wasn't beyond a Muggle to do the same damage. Even so, he flipped through every book she owned, just to see what he could find.

* * *

Hermione headed to the Minister of Magic's office. She hated to go over Eckhert's head like this. She hated even more that she would have to talk to Percy, but there were more important things to be considered.

"Can I help you?" the receptionist asked. Unlike Eckhert's secretary, this woman actually looked like she might be working. Letters folded themselves into enveloped behind while the keys of her typewriter clicked away in the corner. She arranged a tray of tea and biscuits artfully, preparing to take them in.

"Oh, I'll do that," Hermione said, taking the tray from her. "We're old school mates. I've just stopped in to say hullo," she reassured the woman, "if that's okay."

"I suppose so. I do have a lot going on out here," she said, glancing at the typewriter. The charm on the keys needed fixed, Hermione noticed. They kept typing Percy Weasel, Minister of Mugic.

"I'm sure he would rather you fix that than bring him biscuits," Hermione said. The receptionist nodded her head violently in agreement. With that settled, Hermione took the tray and opened the door to the Minister's office.

"Just put them there," he said hurriedly, not bothering to look up.

"Anything else?" she asked. Her voice wasn't what he expected, and he looked up to find her smiling at him. "Hi, Percy."

"Hermione!" he exclaimed, standing up. "What an honor. It's sad to think we work in the same building and never see each other."

She didn't mention that she saw him everyday in the hallway since she started at the Ministry, but he hadn't once waved hello and she had stopped trying after the third week. It would be rude and counterproductive.

"Even sadder to think I'm only here for a favor," she said with a chuckle instead.

"A favor?" He motioned for her to sit, offering her a biscuit while she did. She declined, jumping right to her plea.

"I know you're an important and busy man, so I'll get right to the point," she started. And then she told him everything. Everything minus Snape that was. For his part, he sat and listened. When she finished, he sat forward in his chair, his fingers steepled and his elbows resting on his desk.

"I'm afraid Eckhert is right, Hermione. You have very little proof to go on. If you had another witness to your Detection spell, maybe, but…"

Hermione didn't waste a moment to think about the consequences of her next actions, she just reacted. "Snape saw it," she said. "And his Dark Mark. It's growing blacker. I've seen it," she confessed.

"Snape!" Percy said with a gasp. "You've found Snape?"

"Yes, he lives in the area and he's been very helpful with gathering evidence—"

"He's a wanted criminal and you didn't bring him in. Hermione, that's a crime in itself. I really shouldn't be discussing—"

"He was acquitted, Percy," she argued.

"Only because our star witness conveniently disappeared. Did you know he's wanted for questioning in Harry's disappearance?"

"I've asked him about that." This was not going the way she wanted, not at all.

"And?" Percy prompted.

"And it has nothing to do with a little girl dying!"

"Hermione, you have a known killer in your reach and you did nothing. Does Eckhert know about this? If I were him, I would fire you this instant. Actually—" He reached for a large tome on the edge of his book entitled _An Overly Self Inflated Guide to Being Minister of Magic._ "I might just have the power to do so myself."

"Percy!"

"Hermione, he is Dumbledore's killer. He killed countless others. He followed L—lord, well, You-Know-Who. This isn't one of your school adventures. Has he cursed you? Or maybe poisoned you somehow? I can't believe you would do something like this on your own."

It was obvious to Hermione that Percy would be no help. In the past, she might have tried talking her way of the situation, but her time with Snape had convinced her there were better methods.

She pointed her wand at the Minister of Magic and said in a clear voice, "_Obliviate_."

His eyes went blank and after a moment, he shook his head and looked at her as though she had just entered the room. "Hermione, how nice to see you. It's sad to think we work in the same building and never see each other."

"It is, isn't it," she said sweetly.

"Unfortunately, I am an important man and have lots to do, so you'll have to be quick," he said. Hermione restrained herself from declaring just what a prat he was.

"I just stopped by to say hello and to tell you I saw your mother in Diagon Alley the other day. She wasn't looking very well. You should really call on her."

"Oh, right. Yes, well, I'll do that," he said, thumbing through some papers. She didn't know if he had even registered what it was that she had said. But if he did at least Molly would be happy to have a visit from her son.

"Have a nice day, Percy."

"Uh-huh."

Hermione decided it was time to make a visit to St. Mungo's.

* * *

The Healers who conducted the Aurors' yearly examinations were on the third floor. But Hermione headed down a narrow and rickety staircase that led to the second basement to a door with a crooked sign that read "Neville Longbottom." She knocked and after a hearing a mumbled "Come in," entered.

"Hermione!" Neville said from his desk. Despite the dark and dank hallway outside, inside his office there were windows with sunlight streaming in. Plants of every variety lined the walls and cluttered the floor.

"Neville, how is everything? Still growing medicinal plants, I see," she said with a genuine smile.

"I'm good," he said with a smile, "as long as I don't have to brew the potions myself. And how are you?"

She almost uttered a rote response, but things were not good or even fine. Things were very bad, and she told him that bluntly. She could always count on Neville to be a sympathetic shoulder to cry on.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked when she finished explaining about the scary events in the north.

"The Ministry is determined to ignore the signs, but if we could gather together former members of the Order of the Phoenix, then we could stop this person before they gained power like Voldemort did. I already have one person ready to help," she said, purposely not naming that particular person. She imagined Neville would react in much the same way that Percy had to news that she had found Snape.

"I don't know," Neville said. "Most people are gone. Ron is Egypt and his brothers are spread out everywhere. Fred and George moved their store to America. I've heard they're richer than goblins these days. Lupin isn't strong enough these days what with his illness and…well we were lucky to survive the first time round, weren't we?"

Hermione nodded. Most of the Order had made the ultimate sacrifice to the cause. Remembering them reminded her how important it was to stop this Dark witch or wizard now while they could.

"Who's the other person? Most of the Order isn't around these days. Was it Luna? I had lunch with her today and she didn't mention anything. Or maybe Arthur? But then you would have said two people because I really can't see Arthur doing anything without Molly by his side. So?"

Hermione cringed. She tried in vain to think of something, anything to say that wouldn't make him suspicious and wasn't outright lying. "I'd rather not say right now."

Neville frowned at her. "Hermione, who is it?" he pressed.

"_Snape_," she whispered.

His mouth fell open. "Who?"

"He's saved my life, Neville. I was attacked in the woods, and he found me, and carried me back to his shack in the forest, and nursed me back to health, and he's been helping me investigate this case until last night when his Dark Mark burned black and we just knew that this was too big for just the two of us. We need help, your help, anyone and everyone's help so that this doesn't turn into the nightmare we have already lived through once, a nightmare he has lived through twice," Hermione said so quickly it left her gasping for breath, but she didn't want to take the chance that he wouldn't let her finish.

"A nightmare he helped create," Neville said, his voice suddenly cold. "I can't believe you would stand there and ask me to help him. After what he and his school pals did to my parents. I—I—you need to leave." His face turned red and his voice wavered, and Hermione knew he was right.

She turned and walked toward the door. Pausing as she went through, she turned and looked at him. "I'm sorry, Neville. I truly am, but I have to do something."

"Not with him, you don't," he replied.

"He's the only one who will," she said. And then she left.

Utterly discouraged, she rummaged through her pockets for the crumpled form and headed upstairs. If anything, she would accomplish this today.

Three hours later, she emerged from the examination room, more frustrated and angry than before. The Healers had poked, prodded, and shoved their wands in places they were never meant to go. All she wanted was a cup of tea and a piece of chocolate. Or sod the tea and give her some wine. She'd almost forgotten that she had left Snape back at her flat, but quickly remembered.

"Where have you been?" he demanded the moment she stepped through the Floo. He had taken off his robe, leaving him in a pair of trousers and a soft gray jumper rolled up at the sleeves. He almost looked like an average Muggle except that he paced the living room like a caged animal. Books and papers were strewn everywhere from the kitchen table to the living room floor. It looked like her bookshelf had exploded while she had been gone. She wondered what he had been doing all this time other than obviously trashing the place.

"St. Mungo's," she said, her irritation at his cold welcome home bleeding through her tone.

"What's wrong with you?" If there was any concern in his harsh tone, Hermione didn't bother looking for it.

"Many things according to the two twits who just poked and prodded me for three hours," she spat. She took off her cloak and gently lowered herself into the nearest armchair. Her body ached all over, her left eye had a throbbing pain behind it, and her throat was parched.

"Of course there are things wrong with you," Snape said sharply, sitting down in the chair across from her. "Or did you forget the curse that nearly killed you?"

"I didn't forget," she spat. "It's just that no one believes me. _If that's true, Auror Granger_," she said in a high pitched tone that in no way resembled the Healer's voice but represented it nonetheless, "_why were you never admitted to St. Mungo's? We have no record of any such curse._"

"You would have died if I had taken you to those idiots," Snape said.

"But at least I would still have my job!" Hermione retorted, her voice rising slightly in volume. She felt all the frustration in her bubbling up and out and the only available target happened to be Snape.

"No you wouldn't. You would be dead."

"They asked me where I did go," she said, knowing it would anger Snape. For some reason she couldn't explain, she felt he deserved to be just as angry and irritated as she was. It was his fault she was in this mess, wasn't it? She certainly would have help if it weren't for him. Just as she predicted, his brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed.

"And what did you tell them?" His voice was low and dangerous.

"What could I tell them? Yes, I know you don't believe I was hit with a deadly unnamed curse that no one has never seen, but lucky for me a former Death Eater, murderer, and fugitive found me, took me back to his shack and healed me."

"And I suppose I should have just left you there?"

"Yes! I didn't ask for your help," she said. It was irrational and she knew it, but she couldn't help herself.

"Being unconscious and freezing to death in the snow makes asking a little difficult," he snapped.

"How do I know I was even hit with a mysterious curse? How do I know it wasn't you that hexed me? All I know is that one minute I'm walking through the woods and then the next I'm waking up in your bedroom and you're feeding me some story!" She stood up and glared at him. Her breaths came in little gasps the angrier she got.

"You think I made it all up?" he asked incredulously. "Some ploy to get women, I suppose. Curse them while their backs are turned and then drag them back to my budoir?"

"Makes perfect sense to me!"

His face contorted in anger. His eyes narrowed and his lips pressed together to form a thin line. Hermione could tell that he was holding himself back. "You're not making any sense at all. I suggest you go to bed before you say something unwise."

"Don't talk to me like I'm a child!"

"I will when you stop acting like one," he spat. He stood up and advanced on her, trying to use his height to intimidate her. She took a step back.

"I am NOT acting like a child. I am a MATURE WOMAN asking serious questions about what happened to me in that forest! SOMETHING is going on up there and NO ONE but me seems to give a damn. And why is your Dark Mark turning black? What do you know, Snape? What aren't you telling me?" She was screaming by now. Snape flicked his wand, some spell to keep the neighbors from overhearing no doubt, but it only angered her more.

"I know just as much as you do," he hissed, coming closer. He had her backed up against a wall and like a caged animal she lashed out.

"And why should I trust you?" she asked, pushing him away from her.

He caught her by the wrists, his long tapered fingers digging into her skin. "If I wanted you dead, you would be. All I had to do was leave you there in the snow to die."

"Let go of me, you bastard, you murderer!" she said, twisting out of his grip. He let her go and she turned away from him, unable to look him in the eye after saying such horrible things, even if they were true.

"You should leave," she said, her voice softer now as she recovered her breath.

"You invited me here. Insisted that I come. Wouldn't take no for an answer, if I recall."

"Now," she insisted. She heard a huff, then the rustle of his robes. A few minutes later, she heard the click of the door and she knew he was gone. Wondering if he would ever return and what she would do without him, she sank to the floor and cried.

A/N: As my name suggests, I suffer from great vanity, so please leave a review. Thanks for reading!


	12. Chapter 11

A/N: I'm not particularly happy with this chapter, but I don't think I ever will be, so here it is. I promise there will be actual plot development very soon.

**Chapter Eleven**

_Let us not look back in anger or forward in fear, but around in awareness._  
James Thurber

Severus stormed from Hermione's flat seeing red. He wasn't sure he knew what had just happened up there, other than Hermione had returned home acting more like a banshee than the rational witch he knew her to be.

Out on the street, he looked up at the light in her window, pacing back and forth. He had nowhere to go. Hermione was right or had been anyway until she took leave of her senses. He couldn't go home. It was too dangerous. And the pain in his arm was just now starting to fade hours after they had fled.

Besides, all of his clothes and potions bottles were up in her sitting room. He had been on the run before, it was true, but it had been many years since he had had to go without his basic luxuries.

He pointed his wand at a nearby tree and blasted one of the lower branches. It cracked and fell to the ground with a loud thud, but surprisingly didn't make him feel any better about his situation.

Alcohol. He needed alcohol and lots of it. Heading towards the local pub down the street, he decided that he needed a few hours away from Miss Granger to let his temper cool, and hers as well. He admitted that she was absolutely entrancing when angry, but that would mean nothing if he killed her.

"A pint," he grunted when he got to the pub. The bartender brought it without a word. Unfortunately the man sitting at the bar next to him isn't similarly inclined to silence.

"Trouble with your woman?" he asked Severus. Severus sneered. What made this puerile piece of Muggle filth think he even had a woman? What he had was an arm that ached with memories from the past and a shrieking harpy who had drug him to London only to throw him out on his arse. He told the man as much.

"You can't let her talk to you like that, mate," the idiot told him, whispering as if they were schoolgirl confidantes.

"You have to put into perspective for her," he continued on without any prompting from Severus. "Have you ever killed anyone?"

"Quite a few people actually, including one of her favorite teachers," Severus said dryly. Her accusations of him being a bastard and a murderer hadn't hurt because they weren't true. He accepted that they were, but what hurt was the loss of hope, ruthlessly crushed as she flung the words at him, that at least one person in the world would see beyond his past.

"And did I mention I'm old enough to be her father," he continued on, every doubt that he had regarding their relationship bleeding through. "In fact, I was her teacher for six years. It would have been seven except that I killed the headmaster."

"You putting me on?" his new friend asked, backing up slightly. Severus smirked as he took another swig from his glass. The bartender stood nearby, wiping glasses, laughed out loud.

"As I told you, I did nothing," he said with a sigh. "Or at least nothing that might have provoked her. She was only home five minutes before she let loose on her tirade." Severus finished off his glass and motioned to the bartender.

"Maybe it's just her time of the month," the bartender said, sliding him another ale.

"Or maybe she's pregnant," the idiot said.

"That's not possible," Severus refuted. They hadn't gotten that far the other night, and from what she said, he would have been her most recent opportunity. At least he hoped so anyway. "Things haven't been going well at work lately though."

"Go on," the man next to him said.

"And she has been recently ill."

"See, it's not you, it's everything else. You're just convenient to scream at."

"You just need to draw a hot bath and leave her alone for a good few hours and she'll think you're the sweetest man in the world," the bartender suggested.

"I doubt that," Severus said. "But I do see your point."

Letting her cry on his shoulder had nearly gotten him shagged before, it seemed logical that once she realized her mistake in yelling at him that she would want to make it up to him in some manner, and he had just the idea about how to go about that.

The man next to him slapped him on the back. Severus scowled at him, smug in the fact that he could make even grown men cower. If only it still worked on Hermione.

"Thank you, gentlemen," he said smoothly, dropping a few Muggle coins on the bar. "The advice was almost as good as the ale."

He headed back from the pub feeling much more relaxed. The two pints of ale had helped clear his head and look at the situation with a clearer head. Hermione was clearly out of her head with anger and guilt, and he had just happened to be a very convenient target.

What he needed to do was teach her to direct her ire at more appropriate directions—the Ministry of Magic to start. He had composed an entire speech, envisioning her tearful apology at the end of it. In his daydream, they had incredible make-up sex, several times.

But arriving back at her flat, he found her slumped over the table, her nose planted in a potions manual. He panicked, all thoughts of speeches and soulful sorries fled his brain. She had been looking worse lately, but he assumed it was the stress. When was the last time she had taken the Evictus Potion or her Strengthening Potion? It was while he was checking her pulse that she stirred. Relief washed over him as he realized she had only been asleep, followed quickly by irritation.

"Come along, time for bed," he said, grabbing her arm and hauling her out of the chair. He was less than gentle, still angry that she worried him like that.

"So s-sleepy," she murmured, rubbing at her neck, her eyes barely opening. He could have been the Dark lord reincarnated and she'd hardly have noticed.

"This way." He pushed her in the direction of the hall. She stumbled, grabbing at the wall to steady herself. Severus looked around for her cane. It was nowhere in sight. She must have left it in the living room. With a belabored sigh, he came up behind where she stood and swept her up in his arms.

"What are you doing?" Her eyes remained closed, but her face screwed up in a look of indignation.

"Carrying you to bed. You're meant to sleep in beds not at tables." She didn't answer, but leaned her head against his shoulder in quiet acceptance. Either she was no longer angry at him, or too tired to care.

His arms ached with her weight, and he hurried down the hall to her bedroom. With an awkward wave of his wand, the covers folded back, and he lay her down in the bed. He moved to stand up, but she had fisted her hands into his shirt, and she was not letting go.

"Don't," she whispered, her voice small and strangled. "Don't go."

"You need to sleep, Hermione." He untangled her fingers from his jumper and stood up.

"Please don't leave me," she pleaded, reaching out and grabbing his hand. He suppressed a frustrated sigh. Earlier, she didn't want to see or speak to him ever again. And now she begged him not to leave her.

"Do you want some Dreamless Sleep Potion?" he asked. It was the only explanation he could come up with for her reticence to be alone. The nightmares he had seen when he glimpsed into her mind had been terrifying. He didn't blame her for avoiding sleep.

"No," she answered. "You. Just you." She tugged at his hand. Her words pierced his heart. Acquiescing, he nodded and sat on the bed next to her.

"Let me remove my shoes first," he said, leaning over and untying his boots. When he was finished, he looked over and realized she still had hers on as well. Scooting to the end of the bed, he reached out and took her feet into his lap. He slid off one shoe and then the other. With a wry smirk, he noticed that she wore knee length striped socks, reminding him of a witch in a movie he had watched as a child.

"I want to go to Oz," he had told his mother when he was six.

"You will someday, my sweet," she said with a secretive smile. Too bad Oz had turned out less welcoming to him than it had been for Dorothy. But Hermione wasn't the Wicked Witch of the West—irritating, trying, and oftentimes a nuisance, but not wicked. And she had very nice legs, he mused, as he pushed her robes up her calves, drawing her socks down.

He threw the socks aside, but his hands lingered on her one foot. He rubbed it absentmindedly. Her leg twitched as he hit a ticklish spot. After a few minutes of the same treatment on the other foot, he stood up, took off his own robe, and then crawled up the bed next to her. Her steady breathing made him think she had fallen asleep, but she scooted aside to make room for him, pulling the covers over both of them.

Rolling over to face him, she whispered, "I didn't mean it."

"Yes you did," he said bitterly. Severus had never been one to forgive easily.

"I was angry at the Healers and frustrated with the Ministry's apathy. I'm so sorry." She moved closer, her lips brushing against his. "Will you forgive me?" She didn't let him answer right away, sucking his lower lip between hers. He drew her closer, his hand moving to her waist.

"I am not so easily manipulated," he snarled after a few moments of light snogging. Pushing her back into the bed, he braced himself with two hands on either side of her head, their noses almost touching. Even in the dark, he could see her furrowed brow and lips puckered out in a pout.

"So you don't forgive me?"

"Not yet." He leaned down and kissed her.

* * *

Hermione felt like she was drowning. Snape's mouth bore down on hers with an intensity she hadn't ever experienced. Her fingers curled into the front of his robes, struggling between the impulse to pull him closer and push him away.

She gasped for air when he pulled away. "You should have left me there," she said, choking on the words. He brushed the hair from her face, his thumbs caressing her cheek.

"And let you die?"

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Tears burned at the edges of her eyes.

"It certainly would have made life easier for me," he said. He looked at her sternly, a look she remembered from Hogwarts. The thought that he had been her teacher once, and a hated one at that, struck her. How odd to think that all those years trying to catch his attention and now she lay beneath him while he kissed her into oblivion.

"But easier is not always better," he finished. He kissed her forehead, then reached down and began undoing the buttons of her robe. She noticed he had taken his own robe off before getting in the bed, leaving him in just his boxers.

"I hate feeling like this," she murmured.

"It's the curse," he explained. "All the negative feelings, the nightmares, the lingering pain in your limbs. It was designed to make the recipient as miserable as possible, to kill them slowly and painfully."

"Who would do such a thing?" she asked. Snape finished with her buttons and pulled her up to sitting so she could shrug out of them, leaving her in just a camisole and knickers. Her robes joined her socks on the floor, and she worked to get out of her bra as well.

"Who do you think?" He pulled her close as he asked the question, his warm hands sliding under her shirt and over her skin to help her unhook her bra. She buried her cold nose in his neck and inhaled. He smelled of smoke and ale.

"Do you want this off as well?" he asked, pulling at the camisole. Hermione shook her head and he pulled back from her, sure that she heard him mutter "pity" as he went.

"Vol—"

"Yes," he hissed, but his demeanor changed from frightened anger to sarcastic indignation in a second. "You're supposed to be telling me how sorry you are and what a wonderful person I am, not the other way around."

She stifled a giggle. "You're very good with potions," she said. The soft circles he made on her back lulled away the anxiety.

"And?"

"You're very witty," she said with a yawn.

"You forgot good looking," he quipped, laying them both back down. His nose and pale skin made that unlikely to make anyone's list of Severus Snape's attributes. He looked better with his hair shorter. And he had a look that grew on a person, her in particular.

"I was getting there, though humble hardly makes the list."

He kissed the tip of her nose. "And it never will."

She snorted and he had the audacity to feign hurt before he kissed her again, softer this time.

"How's your arm?" she asked in between his kisses.

"Better. You can hardly see it now."

"How do you do it? How do you go on?" she asked, her melancholy from before returning.

"Day by day." He kissed her again.

"Moment by moment," he said with another kiss.

"And does it get easier?" she asked as his lips traveled up her jaw to her the shell of her ear.

"It does sometimes get better," he said, pausing his attentions now to her neck, and gazing down into her eyes. Even in the dark, his look was piercing. She reached up and cupped his cheek with her hand, his stubble tickling her palm.

"You take good care of me," she said. "I couldn't do any of this without you. I don't want to do it without you."

"You won't have to, I promise," he said.

He lay down next to her, pulling her close and nuzzling her neck. She fought the urge to pull away. She never had been much for cuddling. But it would be an insult after he had just been so nice to her, especially after kicking him out tonight, and it wasn't so bad even if his breath did tickle her skin and his proximity made it slightly too hot to be comfortable. The hand moving up and down her arm slowly in a soft caress, however, soothed her into a deep sleep.

* * *

_Pain coursed through every synapse of her body. Through the pain she could make out the Death Eater in front of her in their black robes and mask. Her attacker ripped the mask away, and she saw the twisted smile of Bellatrix Lestrange. _

"Put your hand down, Miss Granger. Nobody likes a know-it-all." Bellatrix was gone, and in her place was the sneering face of Severus Snape.

"And now you are going to die," a skinny man with red eyes hissed. A green light filled her vision, and then everything went black.

She woke with a start to find Snape's arm draped across her chest, his face buried in the crook of her neck. His even breathing that tickled her skin told her was sleeping. She felt smothered and struggled against his grip. Her stirring woke him up.

"Let me up, let me up."

He held her in place, raising his head and whispering in her ear, "You're safe, Hermione. It was just a dream. You're safe."

But she didn't feel safe. She stilled as he pressed his lips below her ear and down her neck. He nuzzled her skin and fell back to sleep almost instantly. There was no getting up.

Trying to remain calm, she concentrated on her breathing, tried to think of the warm weight of his arm that pressed her into the bed as comforting and safe rather than confining. He was here to protect her, not trap her, right?

He was a dangerous man, but he had saved her life, and had treated her well, with respect and gentle kindness up until now, even after she had thrown him out. The Snape in her dreams was not the Snape who snored softly into the crook of her neck. Shifting around to find a more comfortable position, she thought of all the times he had been nice to her, drifting back into a more restful sleep. She was just happy he had come back. She desperately needed him.

* * *

Severus woke up with a smile on his face, something that hadn't happened in many years. But the prospect of what was to come this morning prompted his lips in previously neglected directions.

Of course, they dropped right back into their habitual scowl when he realized Hermione had left him alone in the bed. How were they supposed to start the day with the shag if she had left the room?

He tried to remember that he hadn't let on that he expected more than the few kisses he'd received last night, but it was difficult. The only reason he hadn't insisted last night was because he knew how tired Hermione was. It wasn't good for the ego if his partner fell asleep mid-coitus, but she had a full night's rest by now. A few sips of her Strengthening Potion would do the trick (for him and for her.)

Severus resolved to find her and remind her how tender and caring he could be and then tempt her back to bed for wild animal sex.

He found her in the kitchen. She leaned against the counter still in her pajamas, wearing a pair of ridiculous looking bunny slippers. He noticed she held a piece of parchment crumpled up in her fist. Her eyes were clenched shut and he could see that she was trying hard to regulate her breathing. An owl sat on the windowsill, preening its feathers. So she had received a letter. He wondered what it could be about. It couldn't be good, having upset her.

He snuck up behind her and placed his hands at her waist. She tensed a little, surprised, no doubt, to have her little moment interrupted, but she soon relaxed. Nosing his way through her bushy mane, his lips found the soft skin at the nape of her neck.

"Good morning," he said as he pressed soft kisses just underneath her ear.

"Is it?"

"I think so." His hands crept around her, pulling her close. When she didn't resist, he continued on, his mouth dipping lower as he kissed his way down to her shoulder.

"This really isn't a good time for this, Prof…"

"Severus," he said sharply. He softened his tone, moving his mouth back to her ear. "My name is Severus, Hermione."

She twisted in his embrace, turning round to face him. "I can't call you that."

He chuckled at the scandalized look she gave him. He lifted his hand to cup her face. She leaned into the touch, her eyes drifting shut.

"Even though you've kissed me?" He dragged his thumb across her bottom lip. "Invited me into your bed? You still can't call me by my first name?"

She didn't answer as he tipped her chin up and kissed her on the mouth. But her arms snaked around his waist. She may not be able to call him Severus but she had no qualms about kissing him into oblivion. He didn't resist as she deepened the kiss, her tongue entwining with his own, or when ran her hands over the bare skin of his back.

"Say my name," he ordered her in his best teacher voice when they finally pulled away from each other.

"Severus." Her voice was a little breathy as she rested her forehead against his. He didn't think he had heard anything so wonderful in his life than her saying his name. So much desire, want, and need in one little word, in his name of all things!

It wouldn't last. It never did. But he allowed himself to have this moment with her here in the kitchen. He wasn't the kind of person women looked for when it came to long-term commitments, and she was so bright, and promising, and…he could go on, but he knew she would never choose him even now except that she had no one else and the situation was desperate.

"Good," he said. He leaned up and kissed her forehead and then her eyelids.

"O material?" she asked with a sigh.

He smirked. As if he would give her the satisfaction so early on. "Acceptable, now tell me what's wrong."

She frowned. He wasn't sure if it was over his less than glowing grade or what she was about to tell him. She bit at her lip, a disgusting habit he wished he could break her of. "They fired me."

"They what?" He pulled back from her and stared. Hermione Granger? Over-achiever and insufferable know-it-all, and they had fired her? The Ministry was worse than he thought if they were firing the capable ones.

"I failed my annual health exam," she told him.

"Then they put you at a desk. They don't fire you!" he argued.

"That's not all," she said. He waited for her to continue. "When I said that I had been sent to investigate, well, that was a bit of a lie. No one else could be bothered the first time. And the second time they expressly forbade it. Even after that poor little girl was killed, they refused to think something more might be going on! They refuse to think that Vol— the Dark Lord might be back."

"That's why you were alone," he said. It all made sense now. Aurors worked with partners, never alone. He had been so worried about saving her life that he hadn't stopped to wonder why her partner hadn't come looking for her. But now he could see it  
was because he hadn't known where she had gone.

"No one will listen to me," she said in a choked voice. With his hand at the small of her back, he led her to the small round table at the end of her galley kitchen. The sun streamed through the blinds, creating a striped pattern on the tabletop and her camisole. He sat in the chair opposite from her, reaching across and taking her hand. He was getting quite good at this comforting stuff.

"No one wants to think that the Dark Lord is back again for a third time. It's not exactly a pleasant thought."

"Do you really think it's You Know Who?" she asked.

"He's the only one that has the power to do this," he said, motioning to his arm. It had faded some, but the grayish blue outline was much darker than any other day since the Dark Lord's fall.

"We must have missed a Horcrux," Hermione said quietly, almost to herself.

He didn't recognize that word. "A what?"

She furrowed her brow and hesitated. He gave her hand a squeeze, encouraging her to continue. She did after a moment.

"You Know Who was able to survive the Killing Curse because he had split his soul into pieces and hid them in various objects called Horcruxes. The only way Harry was able to finally kill him was after destroying them all."

"What did you destroy?" It must be very dark and obscure magic because he had never heard of any such thing. But it made sense. A lot of things suddenly made sense.

"Relics from all four Founders and a few personal items of Riddle's – seven in all."

"And you think one of them wasn't really a Horcrux?" Snape asked.

"There's no other explanation."

He gripped his arm, his fingers digging into his skin where the Dark Mark was. He knew from the moment that he found Hermione in the woods cursed and near death that something was wrong but until this very moment, he had convinced himself that it had nothing to do with him. Even when his Mark grew darker, he tried to tell himself that there was someone else involved, but now he knew. He knew it had started again.

"Maybe the third time will be the charm," he said dryly, hiding from her the familiar fear and doubt that crept over him. He had survived twice by some miracle. He doubted he would again.

"I can't do this again," Hermione said, her voice cracking.

"Then don't," Severus said sharply. He could see the tears forming in the corners of his eyes and he didn't feel like seeing her cry again. It was time for something new—like a shag.

"B—but…"

"Or formulate a plan and get on with it, but don't sit there moaning and crying and doing nothing."

She furrowed her brow at him and started to say something impertinent when he interrupted her with a yelp. A sharp stinging sensation started in his ankle and moved up his leg, like something had bitten him.

"Merlin's beard! What the devil was that?" He reached down to massage his sore leg when he saw the glint of two very sharp teeth on Hermione's slippers.

"Your bleeding bunnies just bit me!"

She had the decency to look chagrined, but it didn't lessen the pain in his ankle. "They do that sometimes," she said, slipping them off. "They were a gift from Fred and George."

"Idiots! Don't you have some crème or something to put on it?" he sniped, still rubbing at his stinging skin. Hermione got up and rummaged through a cupboard before bringing him a tube of salve. He couldn't help but notice her attempts to hide her smiles when she handed it to him.

"You think this is funny?"

His question prompted a bellow of laughter and he scowled at her. "Here we are discussing the likely return of You Know Who and you're complaining about my bunny slippers."

"With good reason," he argued.

She nodded, turning serious. "You're right. I'm sorry. Do you want me to kiss it and make it better?"

"It's going to take more than a kiss," Severus answered, still in a grumpy tone, setting down the salve. She started to sit back down, but he grabbed her hand and pulled her closer to him. "But it wouldn't hurt to speed things along," he said softer. She leaned down and pecked him on the cheek. Grabbing her head, he didn't let her escape so easily and pulled her down for a longer deeper kiss.

"Now about that plan…" she said when he let finally let her go. He wished it could wait for later, but then his arm twinged again and he admitted that the sooner they finally got rid of the Dark Lord, the sooner he could move on with his life.

* * *

Hermione didn't really appreciate the sharp tone that Snape, or Severus now, used when pointing out the idiocy of her actions the day before.

"Did you mention me?" he demanded after she explained she had gone to see Percy and Neville, (the two biggest lackwits she could have chosen, according to him.)

"Just to Percy, but I Obliviated him before I left."

"Good girl," he said. Hermione smiled despite herself. He never praised her in school. And even now, he didn't approve of most of her methods, so she clung to even the smallest bits of praise.

"You need to gather support from people who can and will do something. Certainly not Longbottom. And if you want a Weasley, you're better off trying Molly and Arthur,"  
he continued.

"Former Order members?" she asked, getting up to fetch a quill and some parchment to take notes.

"Precisely. Kingsley, Nymphadora, and Lupin. Is Moody still around?"

"I think he's completely off his rocker these days," Hermione said. She didn't write his name down with the rest.

"He always was a lunatic. Amazing auror, but crazy. It almost goes with the profession," he said with a smirk. She realized that he liked getting a reaction out of her. Best not to give him one then, she decided.

Glaring at him, she said, "I'll pretend you didn't just say that. Luna Lovegood would be a good idea. Her father's paper could run a story since the _Daily Prophet_ won't."

"You've tried?" he asked. Hermione nodded. She had sent at least three letters to the editors but with no avail. It was a shame that Rita Skeeter had finally registered her Animagus form or she might have had some leverage. _The Quibbler_ would have to do.

"A good starting point," Severus said. Hermione nodded, wiping off her quill and setting it aside. She could visit all of these in the next few days. They could have a small force prepared by the weekend if everyone was ready, the sooner the better. The more time that passed, the more likely it was that Voldemort gained power. And they couldn't let that happen.

But first, she needed to shower and get dressed. There was a lot to do between now and then. She folded her notes and stood up to leave the kitchen.

"Where are you going?" Severus asked, looking at her confused and slightly disappointed. She thought it was obvious.

"To visit Remus and Tonks and Molly and Arthur. We just said that—"

He sighed deeply and nodded, pinching his nose between his thumb and index finger. "Right, right. Go on."

Hermione left, more hopeful and energized than she had been in the beginning, but a little confused as well. She didn't think she would ever understand Severus Snape. She wasn't entirely sure she even wanted to.


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

_It is dangerous to be right when the government is wrong._  
Voltaire

Hermione's optimism was short lived.

Where was everyone? Hermione screamed (in her mind only, lest she scare anyone walking through Diagon Alley.) Arthur and Molly Weasley were gone for three weeks to Egypt to visit Ron and Bill. And according to her calculations, the full moon had been the night before, so that explained Remus and Tonks not answering their door. But still, it left her drained and disappointed, since no one else on her list seemed to be around either.

Her desperation grew by leaps and bounds, and she was hungry. Just as she was debating between carrying on to her next stop and pausing for some lunch, an arm grabbed hers. Hermione's muscles tensed in surprise, and on reflex, she grabbed her wand and pointed it at her would-be attacker.

"Hermione! Where have you been? I haven't seen you at work in ages?" Her friend Abby exclaimed, not noticing that Hermione had drawn her wand and was pointing it at her. Feeling chagrined, Hermione tucked it away in her pocket before Abby did notice and greeted her, though less enthusiastically.

"I'm surprised you haven't heard," Hermione said. "I've been canned."

"What?" Abby shrieked. A nearby hag looked over at the two and scowled while an elderly wizard carrying an ear trumpet leaned closer so he could hear better. Hermione grabbed Abby by the elbow and led her into the Leaky Cauldron and away from prying eyes and listening ears.

Tom seated them at a table in the corner and the moment he left, Abby began her interrogation.

"But what happened?"

"Eckhert and I had different views on how to run the department. I thought we should investigate Dark wizards and he thought we should sit around and assure the Wizarding world they were completely safe," Hermione answered bitterly.

"But we are safe, aren't we?" Abby said, her eyes wide. Hermione bit at her lip and looked away. What should she tell her friend? If the Minister of Magic, close friends who had fought by her side in the war against Voldemort, and the head of Aurors didn't believe her then what would make an empty-headed gossip hear her out?

"For now," Hermione answered cryptically. That wouldn't be the case though if people continued to ignore the signs that became more and more obvious as the days went on. "But enough about me, what's new with you?"

The next half hour provided Hermione with relief from the constant worry over the returning Dark Lord while she concentrated on the whys and what fors of men who promised to owl, but then never did.

"So, tell me about your love life," Abby said when she completed her own soap opera. Hermione blushed. Her usual answer was a snort and a roll of her eyes, but with Snape sitting at home after snogging her senseless before she left for the day, she could hardly keep up the pretense.

"Aha!" Abby cried. "There's someone. Who? Who? Is it James in Care of Magical Creatures. He's been giving you the eye lately."

"Really?" Hermione asked. Sure, world famous Quidditch players, best friends, and ex-professors, but just normal men never seemed to notice her.

Abby raised her eyebrows and Hermione shook her head. "No, not him. You wouldn't know him, but tall, dark, and—" she hesitated at saying handsome. His nose really was overly large. "Very intelligent," she finished with instead.

"What does he do?" Abby asked, taking a sip of her tea.

"Potions," Hermione answered. She bit into her scone. "He's quite good at them."

"Really?" Abby leaned forward, belying her sudden interest. "And where is he now? Holed up in your bedroom, I suppose."

"Actually, yes," Hermione said with a laugh.

"Where is it you live? We've had lunch together for over two years and I've never seen your place."

Hermione tensed up. At the end of the war, the press had scrambled to get her "side of the story" and in order to keep them at bay she had kept her flat Unplottable along with several other charms that made it hard to track. Only the Weasleys and her boss knew where she lived exactly. Abby hardly qualified as a close friend.

"The east side of town," she answered vaguely.

"Not telling then? Well, will I get to meet this mystery man of yours?" Abby asked.

"Not anytime soon," Hermione said. "He's terribly busy at the moment, and I'm looking for a new job. But maybe in the next month or so."

"Are you bringing him to the Ministry's Midnight Ball?" Abby asked.

Hermione looked at her confused. "It's tonight," Abby explained. "Please don't tell me you're not coming. You have to. Everyone will be there."

Everyone will be there, Hermione thought. It would be the perfect opportunity to spread the word, to capture the public's interest. Maybe then the Ministry might be moved to act.

"Of course I'll be there," Hermione said. "A lot of important and interesting people will be there."

"And your new beau? Will he come too? I would looove to meet him," Abby crooned. Hermione resisted the urge to cringe.

"He won't be able to make it, I'm afraid. He's in the middle of a very fussy potion and can't get away."

She glanced down at her watch, realizing she needed to go. "We should do lunch again. I'll send an owl."

She threw a few coins on the table, pecked her friend on the cheek and Apparated away so quickly she hardly noticed as Abby narrowed her eyes and formed her perfectly pink lips into a fierce frown.

* * *

A tawny owl arrived fifteen minutes after Hermione left for the day, dropping on the table in front of Severus a copy of the _Glas Stob_. The headline across the front page read "Elderly Man Found Dead, Eyes Missing."

So they had found Mr. Danielsen, Severus mused. He picked up the paper and read on. The old man had been found by a neighbor lady who had knocked on his door to complain about the smell. The sight she found inside that of Mr. Danielsen sprawled on the living room floor with his eyes gouged out left her babbling nonsense. It had taken the police detectives over two hours to get any relevant information out of her, the account read.

Severus sighed. Relevant was a subjective term. Relevant to the Muggle authorities would mean nothing to him and Hermione. But the article did pose some new and interesting questions. New and disturbing questions. Why were the eyes missing?

He hoped Hermione fared better today. She was right. They needed help. But he wasn't convinced it was the help she was looking for. She insisted on visiting former members of the Order of the Phoenix and Dumbledore's Army. None of whom would ever dream of brewing illicit potions or casting Dark spells.

However, many of Severus' former acquaintances might help them better realize what they were dealing with up there. He took out a quill and some parchment.

_To my esteemed colleague and friend, Mr. Lucius Malfoy, _

I have a bit of a puzzle for you, old friend. But first, let me dispense with the ritual niceties. How is South America treating you?

* * *

Hermione didn't know what to expect at the Quibbler office, but fifty charmed quills racing across fifty pieces of parchments in one corner and five desks piled with every odd and end imaginable (and some not) was not it. Luna's face lit up as Hermione came in. (She had knocked but no one had heard her.)

"Hermione! What are you doing here? Did you see the story about the Wandering Wazzits?"

"No, but I do have a story for you. An exclusive," Hermione said. She appreciated that Luna required no small talk.

"The Daily Prophet won't run it, you mean," Luna said innocently. Hermione frowned. Luna had an uncanny ability of ferreting out what people really meant. If only she could put that talent to use instead of using it to look for Horned Crumplesnacks or whatever she searched for.

"Right, okay they wouldn't run it. It's a big story though - Lord Voldemort is back," Hermione said bluntly.

"But Harry killed him. And then Harry disappeared," Luna said.

"No, he didn't kill him. He couldn't kill him completely until he destroyed every piece of his soul and there's one piece still left out there. And now he's gaining power again. He attacked me," Hermione said in one breath. She held up her cane for Luna to illustrate the seriousness of the situation. But someone interrupted her.

"There are Blibbering Humdingers loose in Bath," Mr. Lovegood said, coming into the room in a rush. He panted heavily and his thin gray hair flopped down in his eyes. Luna nodded and grabbed her bag, a purple denim purse with an orange feather glued to the side.

Hermione stood helpless as Luna started to leave the room. Only when she got to the doorway did she remember her friend. "Oh, Hermione."

"You're not going to run the story, are you?" Hermione asked, defeated. More and more it looked as if the Ministry Midnight Ball tonight was her best option.

"If you write it, we'll run it on the front page," Luna promised. Hermione nodded. But it was a mixed victory. Would anyone believe a story ran next to Blibbering Humdingers?

"Good luck with the Humdingers," Hermione said after her. She Apparated away a few moments later, in search of the perfect dress robes…or anything that would do in a pinch.

* * *

Severus sat on the couch in Hermione's living room, glancing about the room while he tried to think of what he might do. His letter was written and the paper read. Her Potions books were grossly inadequate and he had already been through them all. Nothing was on the telly. And he had already done the dishes and tidied up the kitchen.

He could brew some extra Evictus Potion but Hermione had enough to last her another week. It would be wasting ingredients to make anymore at this juncture. And then he noticed a few notebooks piled on the bottom shelf of her bookcase.

He shouldn't really peek into her private notes and scribblings, but then he usually did what he shouldn't do – joining the Dark Lord, killing Dumbledore, wanting to sleep with Hermione all came to mind.

He found his hands creeping towards the bookcase even before his brain had registered that he had made up his mind.

Severus learned a great many things about Miss Hermione Granger that afternoon. She had suspect taste in clothing. Shopping outside of books was obviously not one of her hobbies. Her finances appeared in good order. And she had a diary with pages of horribly written poetry he sincerely hoped was from her adolescent years. She also had quite the stash of trashy romance novels hidden under her bed behind several boxes full of pictures.

Pushing aside the photos, he went straight for the books. It had been awhile since he had been thoroughly entertained.

* * *

Hermione came home tired and dejected, with a sketchy plan and a dismal dress, hoping to find Snape in the kitchen making dinner. But the sitting room and the kitchen remained dark. The only light came from the streetlamps outside.

Taking out her wand, Hermione eyed the shadows suspiciously. Though every bone in her body ached, the adrenaline now pumping through her bloodstream quickly washed away any hopes of sitting and relaxing with a glass of wine before heading out again to the ball.

"Hello?" she said. "Anyone here?"

"I'm in here," she heard Snape call. Turning the corner into the hallway, she saw that the light in her bedroom was on and the door was cracked. She wondered what he could be doing in there.

She found him lounging on the bed, her bunny slippers on his feet, and one of her books in his hand. The drawers of her dresser hung slightly open and the box of private papers she kept under the bed peeked out from under the bed ruffle.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, her hands on her hips and her eyes blazing with fury. How dare he go through her things!

"Just a little reading," he said with a smirk, tilting the book in his hand just enough so that she could get a glimpse of the cover. She realized with a gasp that he had discovered her stash of trashy romance novels – the ones she bought at the corner market on truly horrible days that could only be redeemed with a bar of Cadbury chocolate and a roguish rake sweeping a maiden off her feet.

"Give me that!" she said, reaching for the book, but he pulled it from her grasp.

"But I've just got to the good part," he said, grabbing her wrist as she tried to steal it away.

"There are no good parts," she snarled, feeling the blood rushing to her cheeks. She wanted to cry with embarrassment except that she was too angry with him at invading her privacy.

"Oh, I disagree," he said with a smirk. She grabbed for the book again, but this time he caught her wrists and pulled her down on the bed beside him. She struggled to get free, but he proved stronger. He stilled her wiggling by rolling her underneath him, pinning her to the bed while he read a particularly prosaic passage.

_Esmerelda gasped to find a dark intruder in her bedchambers. The light of her candle flickered, casting its pale light upon the finely cut silhouette of Lord Black. _

'Have you lost your way?' Esmerelda queried, trying in vain to hide the sudden excitement his appearance caused in her.

'Oh, no,' Lord Black said, his voice low and sultry. 'I'm exactly where I want to be.' He stretched out his arms and legs with a cat-like agility and patted the bed next to him. 'Though considerably more alone than I prefer to be.'

'Is that so?' Esmerelda asked. She knew she should turn around and leave this rake alone and unsatisfied. She knew that she should save herself for her betrothed Lord Blanc, but he was here. And so was she, and there was no denying that this man, rogue may he be, made her skin tingle and her inner being ache like her sedate fiancé never had.

Lord Black didn't answer her, but swung his legs over the bed and came to her. Taking the candle from her hands, he placed it on the bedside table, then took her hands and led her to the bed. His mouth met hers, and soon enough their tongues twisted together in a spirited dance. With nimble fingers, he undid the myriad of buttons, slowly revealing the ripe fruit she concealed beneath.

"Enough! Enough!" Hermione cried.

"But I'm just getting to the best part," he argued, although thankfully he didn't continue.

"You are an evil, evil man," she said, slightly out of breath from her struggle.

"No I'm a fiendish rake. Or is that rakish fiend? Maybe roguish rake?"

"Too many Rs," she said, renewing her attempts to free herself. He chuckled in response, his inattention giving her the opening she needed. She had almost made it to the edge of the bed where she had a little more leverage when he caught her again, his heavy weight pressing her into the mattress.

"Stop moving," he admonished. "You might actually enjoy this."

"Enjoy what?" she spat. "You invading my privacy and then laughing at me?"

"Not that, this." He leaned down and kissed her. She didn't want to acquiesce, but she couldn't help it when he lifted his hands to her face, his thumbs grazing her cheeks in a gentle caress, or when he coaxed his tongue into her mouth.

"I do believe those breasts are heaving," he said when he lifted his head, his eyes traveling down her body to her chest. "Tell me," he consulted the book again, "do you feel a sudden heat pooling in the very center of your being?" He pulled up her jumper to investigate, sliding his palms over the flat planes of her stomach.

Hermione slapped his hand away. "Stop that! And let me up, you bastard."

"I thought we decided I was a roguish fiend," he said with a smirk, leaning down and pressing kisses against her jaw. He snuck his hand back up under her jumper.

"You're going to be a hexed fiend if you don't let me up." Her protests went unnoticed, and in truth, she didn't mind much anymore. She was tired and his kisses and caresses were comforting even if he was irritating.

"Don't you want to see my love stick?"

Hermione couldn't help but chuckle at that despite her irritation. She craned her neck to look him in the eye. "That sounds absolutely frightening, actually. What I want is some dinner."

"You're hungry?" Snape asked. Hermione nodded. "But not for my touch?"

"Not at the moment," she said. "Right now I want some pasta."

Snape sighed, loud and long suffering, as he rolled off of her onto his back.

She rolled onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow and resting her hand on his chest. Snape's eyes drifted closed, but he raised one hand to cover hers.

"What about Malfoy?" she asked. She wanted this day to count for something. Maybe if they could find someone who would have the answers, any answers, that would help them, then they would be one step closer to defeating the reincarnated Lord Voldemort.

"For dinner? I never would have taken you for a cannibal," he said wryly, opening one eye to ogle her.

"For help. He might know something of what we are up against. He's experienced in the Dark Arts, isn't he?" Hermione said, sidling closer.

"If only I could direct that intense focus onto me," he mumbled so quietly that Hermione almost didn't catch it.

"What?" she asked, not sure he heard him right.

"Why do you think I would know where they are?" he asked, not bothering to repeat his earlier statement.

"You're the Death Eater," she retorted.

"And you're the Auror," he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her closer to him. It gave her an idea. She knew how to best get information from him. She wiggled her way on top of him and kissed his chin.

"So where is he?"

"Which one?" Snape asked.

Hermione kissed his neck and the skin exposed by the gaping of his collar. "Whichever one you think is most likely to able to help us."

"Both Lucius and Draco are in exile in South America. I sincerely doubt they will be any help to us." Hermione pushed herself up to look him squarely in the eye, furrowing her brow in frustration.

"That's no reason to stop what you're doing," he told her with a smirk.

"You're toying with me," she accused him, trying to leave him, but he wrapped his arms around her and held her to him tightly. She was trapped.

"And you're not toying with me," he said, his breath tickling her ear.

"Maybe a little," Hermione conceded. "But you owe me for going through my things."

"I just looked through your books," he said.

Hermione frowned, lifting up a little to scowl at him. "And my clothes and the papers under the bed and Merlin knows what else. You are a horrible spy."

"I've haven't had much practice in the last few years." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Besides, I thought I had some time to clean up before you came home," he finished.

"You can clean up while I'm out tonight," she said.

"Tonight? Where are you going tonight?"

"To a ball," Hermione answered. She crawled off of Snape before he could question her further, or worse, talk her out of it.

* * *

Severus groaned as he watched Hermione hobble out of the bedroom. He didn't know if he could stand another hour in this cramped apartment without another human being to entertain him, particularly an attractive young female like Miss Granger. Standing up, he followed her into the kitchen.

"Don't try to talk me out of going tonight," Hermione said as she put some pasta on the stove to heat.

"I have to know what your plan is before I start tearing it apart piece by piece," Severus said, reaching around her to open the cupboard to get down the jar of sauce. "I suppose your efforts today didn't amount to much."

"Not at all. A half-hearted promise to run the story in the Quibbler and no one home. But the Ministry of Magic is holding a ball tonight and I will be there to announce to the public that the Dark Lord has returned, and in fact was never really gone."

Severus decided against telling her it was the most idiotic plan he had ever heard of, if for no other reason than that he had no better one. They were at their wit's end. He told her about what he had read in the paper, and just as he expected, it only shored her up even more in favor of her plan.

"Do you have a dress?" he asked while they ate. He had looked through her closet and he knew she didn't have anything appropriate to wear to a fancy dress ball, not as a guest anyway, unless she planned on going as the help.

"I bought one today," she said, her face lighting up. She looked genuinely healthy for those few moments, and he didn't even have to make her angry. He filed away the information for later.

"Let's see it then." She hurried off to get dressed. He did the washing up and met her in the bedroom. She stood in front of the mirror, fixing her earrings in place. Leaning against the doorframe, he watched her. Her dress robes were stunning – a lavender outer robe with a subtle sheen of blue that flowed over her every curve and a strappy dress underneath.

His thoughts ran back to what he had read in the paper. He didn't like the idea of Hermione running around town in her weakened condition alone. Not that he thought he could stop her. And mentioning it to her would only land him in trouble. But that didn't mean he had to lie around the flat all day while she did the dirty work without any support.

"How do I look?" she said, turning around to face him. "It's out of fashion, but the storekeeper said it would work alright."

"Beautiful."

"O material?" she asked.

Severus smirked, ignoring her question. "Be careful. If they won't believe you; they certainly won't believe me."

"Don't wait up for me," she said before pecking him on the cheek. He scowled. She walked past and he reached out and pulled her into his arms. This was his only chance to keep her safe.

"Promise me you'll take every precaution tonight," he said, hugging her tightly to her chest. She looked up at him in surprise. "Promise me."

"I promise," she said. Severus nodded and held her tighter, his hand cradling her head against his chest while he took out his wand and cast a discreet Tracking Charm.

"Good," he said. He hid his wand back in his sleeve and released her. Hermione stumbled back and looked at him with a questioning look on her face.

"You are—"

"Yes?" he asked.

"Surprising. You're surprising." Severus just smirked and watched her go.

* * *

Hermione arrived at the ball just before the stroke of midnight. Abby had been right, nearly everyone in the Wizarding World was in attendance. So much the better for her, she thought. It meant more people would hear her message and she could easily get lost in the crushing throng in the aftermath.

She mingled with several people she knew from the Ministry, before finally catching sight of her friend.

"You made it!" Abby exclaimed when Hermione caught up to her at the bar. She handed Hermione a glass of champagne and then took one for herself.

"Where are all your beaus?" Hermione asked, reaching up and adjusting her hair. She always felt frumpy around Abby with her perfect hair and fashionable robes. Her friend wore a very complimentary shade of coral tonight and her hair was pinned up in a complicated knot. Sparkling crystals hung from her ears and she had miniature ones that matched affixed to her long fingernails.

Abby blushed, making her even prettier. "Just have one and he's working security tonight, but he promised he would get away for at least one dance. And where is your wizard?"

"At home. I told you he wouldn't be able to make it," Hermione told her. She glanced around and tried to determine the best way to make her announcement. It was much too loud at the moment with the band playing and people crowding one another.

"Is there a formal presentation tonight or just dancing?" Hermione asked. Abby handed her a program for her to read. Ironic, Hermione thought when she saw the title. "Ministry of Magic's Midnight Ball – Celebrating fifteen years of peace and harmony."

"Has it really been fifteen years?" she said under her breath, but Abby heard her.

"It's been a very long time," she remarked, her brow furrowing. Hermione nodded her head. It had been a long time, but not long enough. She hoped they would be celebrating the sixteenth year of peace next year, but somehow she wasn't so optimistic.

After a few dances, one with a tall foreigner who reminded her of Victor Krum and a wizard who looked like he might be half-goblin, Percy got up to address the crowd as Minister of Magic.

This was her chance. She took out her wand, tapped her throat, and whispered Sonorus.

"EXCUSE ME, EVERYONE. I HAVE AN ANNOUNCEMENT TO MAKE REGARDING THE FUTURE SAFETY OF THE MAGICAL COMMUNITY. IT HAS COME TO THE ATTENTION OF THE MINISTRY THAT LORD VOLDEMORT HAS RETURNED."

* * *

Severus picked up Hermione's romance novel after she left. If he wasn't going to see any action tonight, he could at least read about some other lucky bastard. Although on second thought, he'd rather not read about any Lord Black, but a few minutes rummaging under her bed and he found another book with a darker hero with a dangerous past who won the girl.

He had just reached the juicy bits and had started wondering if he shouldn't take notes if this turned out to be the sort of thing Hermione fantasized about when he heard a banging at the door.

"Let us in! Department of Magical Law Enforcement," a voice shouted, muffled by the thickness of the door and the enchantments that protected it. "We have a warrant for your arrest. You're harboring a dangerous criminal, Miss Granger!"

Aurors, Snape realized, bristling at the dangerous criminal part. How many times did he have to exonerate himself? At least they gave him fair warning to get away. So little subtlety as they attempted to barge in and take them away by force.

With no time to grab any of his things, he concentrated on the Tracking Charm he had placed on Hermione and hoped to Merlin he didn't splinch himself. With a pop, he disappeared.

* * *

A/N: Why yes, I am an evil author who likes to leave you with cliffhangers. But I'm on a writing streak so the next chapter shouldn't be too long in coming. :-) 


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

_Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. You wait and watch and work: You don't give up._  
Anne Lamott

Hermione's announcement had just the effect she thought it might – all out panic and then shouts for security. A woman to her left fainted out right, caught by a nearby wizard who helped slide her to the floor. People gasped and shouted. Others laughed, thinking it was a joke. And others, thinking the threat was imminent, tried to run.

As best as she could with two legs that didn't quite cooperate, Hermione ducked behind a pillar and tried to make it to the closest door and out to the hallway.

Unfortunately, the people standing around here had noticed she was the one making the announcement, so when Percy amplified his own voice and called for order and security, they were quick to point her out. Some burly man even tried to tackle her, but a well-placed hex kept him away.

She tried in vain to Apparate, but felt the sickening feeling of her magic being suppressed. They had set the same Anti-Apparition charms here that they had at Hogwarts. She would just have to run and hope no one caught her. She knew her plan was ill-advised at the start, but she was starting to realize how horribly she had miscalculated when someone knocked her to the ground.

Struggling, she tried to get away. When her captor pushed up off of her and ran in the other direction, she realized he had just been a panicked guest and not a security guard. Still, she needed to be cautious if she was going to make it out of here. Casting a Disillusionment Charm over herself to help get away, she got up and pushed her way through the crowd.

"There she is!" she heard someone shout just as she made it out of the main ballroom and into the foyer. She threw a curse back over her shoulder and tried to speed up. Her legs throbbed, but the adrenaline pumping through her system enabled her to ignore it, though she knew she would pay later.

She rounded a corner and suddenly on her right, she spotted a small broom closet. Quickly, she jumped in and pulled the door shut, listening as the security guards shuffled past.

"Must have gone out this way!" she heard them say. A door was nearby, she realized. Her chances at getting away had just improved tenfold. The five minutes she waited to make sure they weren't coming back were sheer torture, and once again she wished she could just Apparate home to Snape, who could kiss her and tuck her into bed after a hot bath.

Hermione checked to make sure the coast was clear and then made a run for it. The door squeaked terribly when she opened it, but she didn't wait to see if anyone heard it. It led to a dark alleyway. With her wand still out, she jogged away from the well-lit street, deciding her best strategy was to stay in the shadows. Two seconds into her attempted escape, she ran straight into something or someone rather. The someone grabbed her by the shoulders. She struggled against their grip, but they managed to pull her into a dark nook.

"There you are!" a deep bass voice said. It was Snape, she realized. She stopped wiggling and looked up at him, unable to make out any of his features in the dark. "Do you know you can't Apparate in or out of this building?"

"Yes, I've realized that," she said exasperated. "What are you doing here?"

He didn't answer. A shout from down the alleyway alerted them to the arrival of her pursuers. Snape pushed her further into the wall, wrapping his cloak around them both in an attempt to conceal them from prying eyes.

Hermione's heart beat so loudly she was certain the Aurors would hear it. Clenching her eyes shut, she concentrated on regulating her breathing and the comforting warmth of Snape's body against hers. Only after the running footsteps faded away in the opposite direction did he step back.

"I'm saving your arse," he whispered, answering her question. "Once again, I might add." He didn't let her protest, but reached into his robes and shoved a potions bottle into her hand.

"What is this?" she asked.

"Your disguise."

Snape tipped back his own bottle, gagging a bit at the taste. Hermione followed suit and swallowed the foul tasting liquid, instantly recognizing the flavor of Polyjuice Potion.

"Who do I look like?" she asked.

Snape squinted at her, bringing his face very close to hers. "My grocer," he finally answered.

"And you?"

He mumbled his answer under his breath. "What was that?" she asked again.

"The waitress at the café in town," he said sourly. "I mixed up the hairs." He grabbed her hand and pulled her along, ignoring her giggles. "Come along. We have just over an hour before it starts to wear off and we want to be far from here."

"Hold on," she said, tugging at his hand. He stopped and shot her an exasperated look. "I hope your grocer doesn't wear lavender dress robes."

He gave her a curt nod. Dropping her hand, he took out his wand and pointed it at her. Her robes swirled around her, finally coming to rest in a deep midnight blue color and with a much more masculine cut.

"And now your turn," she said, performing the same treatment on his habitual black. She realized it was probably cruel to put him in pink robes, but they didn't have time for him to argue with her. He deserved it after going through her things.

He realized it too, because he only grumbled, "Impertinent girl!" under his breath before moving on. They made it around the corner, out on the street and halfway down the block before they were stopped.

"Oy! You there! Hold it!" A voice yelled at them. Hermione tried to pick up her pace but Snape grabbed her elbow and held her back.

"Wait," he whispered.

"Yes, officer?" he said in his regular silky baritone.

Hermione elbowed him in the ribs and hissed, "waitress"

He coughed once, glaring at her out of the sides of his eyes. "Yes, officer?" he tried again, this time in a voice substantially higher.

Luckily, for them the guard didn't seem to notice the disparity. He peered at Hermione and Snape, holding up his lit wand close to their faces. They both stood still under his perusal, the only outward evidence that either one of them was nervous was the way that Hermione gripped Snape's hand harder and he in return stroked her knuckles with his thumb. Hermione thanked Merlin that she didn't look anything like the waitress in the café, nor the grocer for that matter.

"You seen anyone running by here quick like?" he finally asked.

"No sir," Hermione said, lowering her voice as low as she could go. "We left the ball right after that hooligan made the announcement."

"We don't believe a word of it," Snape cut in with his falsetto. "But I wanted to hurry home to check on the children just to be sure. You understand."

"Sure, sure," the guard said. "Don't have any myself but I understand the sentiment. I'll let you good folks go now."

"Thank you," Hermione said. They turned and walked slowly down the street. She could Snape counting under his breath back from 100. It felt like an eternity before he reached zero, but when he did, he pulled her into another alleyway.

"Hold on," he instructed her. She grabbed his arm and felt the tug and sudden jolt of Apparition. They had escaped.

* * *

They landed in yet another dark alleyway. The second Severus popped into existence, he dropped Hermione's hand and reached for his wand, now secured within hot pink robes, and changed them back to normal.

"I should hex you for that," he said

"It's only fair after what you did to me earlier," she retorted.

Severus scowled at her even though he was sure that in the darkened street she couldn't see the full force of his glare. "What I did earlier? All I did was kiss you."

She snorted and then stilled. "Why aren't we back at my flat?" she asked.

"About that…"

"What did you do?" It was more accusation than query and it set Severus' blood boiling. As if it was his fault that she had gone and gabbed that he was in her flat. As if it was his fault that she dragged him here from his nice cozy home in the first place. And he supposed he was the one that cursed her as well.

He answered with appropriate rage. "Your Auror friends showed up pounding on the door – something about harboring a dangerous criminal. I know I didn't tell them I had come to stay so that only leaves you," he hissed.

Hermione took a step back, knocking into the wall behind her. She gasped, one hand coming to her mouth. "Neville," she whispered.

"I thought you Obliviated him," Severus said. Surely, she wouldn't be so trusting, so stupid, so completely idiotic. But of course she could. Wasn't she with him?

"I Obliviated Percy, but not Neville," she said. Though it was dark he could tell her eyes filled with tears, he could hear them choking her throat as she went on, "I'm so sorry. I never thought he would tell anyone. Why would he? I mean—"

"Yes, why would he? It's not as though Death Eaters tortured his parents until they were little more than trained monkeys kept in St. Mungo's, is it? It's not as though I didn't berate him day after day in Potions because he couldn't manage to brew even the simplest potions correctly. And I certainly didn't kill his beloved headmaster."

"Oh, Merlin," she said, and then chose another few choice curse words.

"Who else did you tell about me?" he demanded.

"No one! Just Percy and Neville and—"

"And who?" He stepped closer, trying to intimidate her with his height and presence. He wanted to scare her, wanted to terrify her into realizing the mess she had put them in.

"I told Abby I had a mysterious dark man back at my flat, but I didn't mention your name," Hermione confessed.

"Who is Abby?"

"She's a friend from the Ministry. She works in—I don't know where she works."

"And that doesn't seem suspicious to you at all?" Severus asked. Hermione shook her head, but there was just enough moonlight for him to detect the slight twitch in her face as she considered the possibilities. "Was she at the ball tonight?"

"Yes," she whispered. She paused before continuing, this time stronger, "but that doesn't mean anything. There were a lot of people at the ball tonight."

"Everyone is a suspect, do you understand me? Everyone."

"Everyone? Merlin, what are we going to do?" she asked desperately.

"We are going to listen to me from now on. We are going to wait for these ridiculous disguises to disappear and then we are going to visit a business associate of mine. He will harbor us for the night while we decide where we can go."

"Go? But we need to stay here and—"

Severus grabbed her by the arms and brought her face close to his so she couldn't possibly miss his meaning. "You've almost died once. I will not let you kill yourself over this, do you understand? I will not kill myself over this. There is nothing more to be done here in London."

She cried out in pain. Severus dropped her immediately and started to apologize when a sharp stab radiated through his gut. The Polyjuice, it was wearing off. A few painful moments later and they looked like Hermione Granger and Severus Snape.

"Ready?" he asked. She nodded, not meeting his eye. "Then let's go."

* * *

Snape led her through the street by the hand. Hermione recognized the dark shops and small doorways as Knockturn Alley, and remembered sneaking down here as a student. It had been thrilling then, to be in a place expressly forbidden and dangerous. Now it just made her tired. She wanted her bed.

They arrived at a door with an interesting knocker, in the shape of a snake. Snape knocked three times in rapid succession, waited two beats and then once more. He shifted from foot to foot in the long minutes afterwards.

"Maybe he's not home," Hermione suggested.

"He's always home," Snape said sharply. He was still angry with her.

"Always?" she questioned.

"Yes, always," he snapped. Just then the door creaked open, and Snape looked over at her with a triumphant smirk.

"This had better be good," a voice squeaked.

"It is," Severus said, pushing past him and pulling Hermione into a warm front room.

"Snape! What do you want?" a small man with a goatee asked. He closed the door quickly and followed them into the room.

It was a very comfortable looking sitting room with a roaring fire in the grate. Overstuffed chairs sat near by and massive floor to ceiling bookcases covered the walls. Several cauldrons with smoke wafting up from inside them sat on a long table in the corner, and several whizzing instruments whirred on the shelves, stuffed in between the many dusty tomes.

"Quiet!" Snape ordered. "No one can know I am here."

"You say that every time," the small man said with a yawn.

"We need a place to stay for the night," Snape said.

The man just raised his eyebrow and then extended his hand to Hermione. "Since Severus lacks any manners, let me introduce myself, Saren. And you are?"

"Her name is Sally," Snape said quickly. Both Hermione and Saren glared at him. "Will you give us sanctuary or not?"

"Only because you're my best brewer," Saren said. "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Sally." He turned back to Snape. "So this is your damsel in distress. I can see why you were so worried. She's a little on the thin side but very pretty."

Hermione frowned. Snape didn't seem the type to kiss and tell. How did this strange little man know anything about her? And what did he mean by damsel in distress. "I assure you I am no distressed damsel," she said indignantly.

Snape snorted. But Saren recovered nicely. "Of course not," he said quickly. "I can see that you probably give Severus here plenty to think about. But please, I am being a horrible host. Have a seat. Can I get you anything to drink?"

"No," Snape said.

"Just some water, please," Hermione answered, ignoring the stare Snape shot at her. Saren pulled down a glass from the cupboard and filled it with a spell from his wand. She took it and drank greedily, not realizing until just then how thirsty she had been.

"My son and his family are visiting so I'm afraid space is limited," Saren told them. "I won't be able to offer you separate rooms."

He kept his gaze focused on Hermione as he said this, watching her reaction. She nodded reluctantly. Snape hadn't given this so-called friend her real name. She doubted he wanted him to know the status of their current relationship. Hermione wasn't sure she knew the status of it herself. But she did know she would rather have Snape next to her through the night if they were going to be in a strange place.

"Whatever you have will be greatly appreciated," she said. "We can make due if we must."

Saren raised an eyebrow and turned to look at Snape. Snape just returned the look coolly. "Well, then," their host said, standing. "Let's get you settled in. You look exhausted."

* * *

"We have all the ingredients and yet still no one to brew the potion," he said impatiently. Why did he always have to deal with such incompetent people?

"I located them in London but they've slipped through our fingers again. There's no telling where they've gone," his servant told him. He picked up his glass from his recently finished dinner and threw it at her. She ducked, and the glass shattered on the rock wall behind her.

"Find him!" he yelled. "I don't care how, just find him!"

"Yes, my lord, but surely you understand that I will need—"

"You can cast an Imperius Curse, can you not?" he asked, lowering his voice to a hiss. She shuddered in reaction, knowing he was much more dangerous like this compared to his yelling.

"Yes, my lord."

"Then do it. Find him and bring him back here to me. Your own life depends on it."

She hurried away from the cave.

* * *

"Really, Snape, you couldn't come up with a better name than Sally?" Hermione asked once Saren left them in the small room he had showed them to upstairs. Severus didn't point out that she was back to calling him Snape again rather than by his first name.

"It was the first thing that popped into my head. I'm sorry it isn't as exotic as Esmerelda," he said, smirking as she blushed at the reference to her silly romance novel.

"Yes, well that would make you a Black then, wouldn't it?" she quipped.

"Absolutely not!" How dare she even bring that dog up?

"I suppose Sally and Severus does have a nice ring to it," she said, making her way to the vanity in the corner. She sat down and frowned at the image reflected back at her in the mirror. He didn't know what the problem was. She looked lovely to him. Even more so with her hair a little rumpled and her cheeks still rosy from the night's exertions. Might he convince her to engage in some more exciting adventures?

She reached up and began to work the many pins holding up her massive mane of hair. "We won't know if tonight was any success at all until we see the papers tomorrow. Though if the _Daily Prophet_ continues on as it has in the past, all we'll read about is the interruption of a peaceful event with no mention of what I actually said."

"More likely they will mention it but issue a Ministry supported statement to the contrary," Severus answered, amazed he could form a full sentence when his mind fixed itself so readily on the reflection of her magnificent chest that heaved as she attempted to reach a particularly difficult pin.

"Here, let me help you," he said, stopping her hand with his. Her arms returned to her side, and she let him lead her to the small vanity in the corner of the room. She sat on the stool while he stood behind her, working out the small bobby pins from her mass of hair. She rattled on as he worked, but his concentration could hardly focus on both her words and her curls.

"Have you ever considered an Accio Charm to remove these?" he asked as he struggled with a particularly tough one. She frowned at being interrupted.

"Only if you want to rip out my hair in the process," she said.

"No, I wouldn't want to do that," he murmured, fingering a lock. He was fascinated by the way it wrapped itself around his finger almost as though it had a mind of its own. His own hair hung so limply in contrast. She reached up and maneuvered the pin out of place. Handing it to him, she smiled. It was a precocious smile, an inviting smile. She cocked an eyebrow in an impression of him that clearly asked him to get on with it and he willingly obliged.

"I just don't know what to do," she said, the corners of her mouth turning down in a frown. "No one will listen. And now the Ministry is after me. I think the Dark Lord has someone in his pocket." Finishing with the rest of the pins, he handed her each one, their fingers brushing against each other.

"It would explain a lot." He thought of her friend Abby and the incompetent Neville. One of them had given her up as a criminal, though it hardly mattered now which, with other more pressing matters to pursue.

"But how do I make people listen. How do I make them understand?" she said desperately, twisting in her seat to look back at him.

"You can't make them do anything. People prefer to live ignorantly and so will ignore all the warning signs until it's almost too late." It was a lesson Dumbledore had taught him long ago. One couldn't control their circumstances or the people around them, but they could control the way they reacted to them.

She turned back around and he could see in the mirror that his words gave little comfort. "Perhaps you should follow your friend Potter's example," he said wryly, plucking the last of the pins out of place. The last strand of hair freed, he massaged her scalp. She sat, contemplating his statement for a moment, her bottom lip caught in her teeth. And then without any warning, she turned and threw herself in his arms. Severus stumbled back a bit.

"That's a perfect idea!" she squealed.

"Running away to the Caribbean?" He had only been joking. But the more he thought on it, the more it appealed to him.

"No, no—" she waved her hand in dismissal—"People will listen to Harry Potter. If he were to tell people that Lord Vol—sorry the Dark Lord has returned then people would listen. They would have to."

"They don't have to," he grumbled.

"But they would. They loved him. Love him still," she chattered on. Severus felt the same tightening in his chest that he always felt when Potter, be it James or Harry, was being discussed. He thought he had rid himself of Potter by sending him far far away. The last thing he wanted to do now was to go after him.

"We can leave tomorrow," Hermione said. Severus dropped his arms from around her waist and took a step back. She nearly fell off the stool she knelt on, but caught herself at the last second.

"It's perfect. We can't stay here. They'll be looking for us." Frowning at him, she reached for his hand. He let her take it.

"They'll be looking for you," he spat, though it wasn't entirely true. The Ministry wanted him much more than they wanted Hermione.

"Okay, they'll be looking for me. But where will you go? You can't stay here, and you can't go home."

"France, Russia, Canada," he listed.

"I need you," she whined, tugging at his hand. He moved closer but kept his hands at his sides.

"Whatever for?" His eyes strayed to her lips, her beautiful full lips that were as red as a rose with lipstick. He pulled his gaze away. He couldn't kiss her now. To kiss her now would be giving in, and he certainly wasn't doing that. But her expression told him that she had seen his moment of weakness, and she would be using it to her advantage.

"You're the only one who knows where Harry is. I need your help finding him." Her arms slid up his chest and around his neck, her fingers scratching at the base of his scalp. Her face came ever closer. He didn't move to invite her, but neither did he pull away.

"I assume you can read a map," he said sarcastically.

She leaned in, her mouth at his ear. "I need you for moral support," she whispered. Her breath tickled his skin and he felt his arms wrap themselves around her on their own accord. Traitorous arms!

She pulled back painfully slow, her soft skin caressing his. "I want you," she added, kissing the corner of his mouth.

"Is that so?" he rasped, barely able to breathe. He would follow her to the ends of the world, wherever she wanted to go, if he could have her here and now on this vanity. She nodded and kissed him. His arms pulled her closer, and he cursed the layers of clothing between them. Impatiently, he continued to kiss her as his hands pushed aside the thin straps of her underdress. He pressed kisses to her shoulder and across her collarbone, dipping his tongue into the small crevice there, and then moving lower. Her short intake of breath only encouraged him.

He didn't hear the knock at the door until it was too late. It opened and Saren popped his head around the door, trying his best to look sheepish but failing. Severus see his delight by the sparkle in his eyes.

"Oh, hope I haven't interrupted anything," he said.

"No, nothing," Severus said, sarcasm and bitterness dripping from every syllable. Hermione cheeks reddened and she buried her face in his chest. He rubbed her back in an effort to soothe away the embarrassment at being caught.

"Oh, good," Saren answered. Apparently, he took Severus' lack of open hostility as an invitation to come in. "I brought you some towels for the shower. I don't think there are any in there. The room is alright, I presume?"

"The room is fine," Severus ground out. Where did the days go where he lived in perfect solitude and obscurity? The days where no one cared what Severus Snape did because he never did anything exciting. Hermione stirred in his arms, reminding him that those days had left the moment he had set eyes on her lying in the forest.

"The room is lovely," she said, looking more collected. She climbed down off the stool, her hand at her breast to keep her dress from sliding off, and took the towels from Saren's outstretched hand. "And thank you for these. I do need to take a shower tonight. It was very thoughtful of you to bring them."

"Yes, very thoughtful," Severus said with a sneer. She turned and frowned at him.

"I'll just go and shower now," she said, looking at him pointedly. "And let you two talk." Clutching the towels to her chest, she walked towards the bathroom. Severus stopped her with his hand on her shoulder.

"Lock the door," he leaned down and whispered. "There are suspicious creatures about."

"Including you?" she asked with a cheeky grin.

"Especially me," he said, pushing her towards the door. She turned and smiled at him again before the door closed. Saren clearing his throat reminded him that they weren't alone, and indeed why Hermione was in the bathroom and not in the bed with him.

"What do you want, you nosy twit?" he hissed, rounding about on Saren.

"My, my, Severus. It's a wonder you're not invited into more homes with the gratitude you show your hosts," Saren admonished, clucking like a hen. "Is she worth it?"

"Worth what?"

"The danger. Or is that part of the attraction?" He walked closer. He looked as Severus as he might one of his rarer potions, as though he were discerning if it were genuine or not. "She brings excitement and adventure into your boring existence again. It must have been hard to play the spy all those years and then to go to living like a hermit, an outcast."

Severus clenched his fists, digging his short fingernails into the skin to keep from punching the older man out. How dare he talk to him like that! How dare he be so right!

"I wouldn't know. You interrupted my chance to find out."

"There will be more. She had a hungry look in her eye. Come downstairs and share a drink with me. I have questions for you." Severus looked back at the door leading to the bathroom, contemplating how long Hermione would be and then back to Saren. He should have time for a quick drink and still be able to get back upstairs in time to help her 'dry off.' He followed the shorter man down the stairs. Saren ushered him back into the sitting room. Severus sat in the armchair nearest the fire.

"Who are you running from?" Saren asked, bringing him a brandy. Severus sniffed it. There didn't seem to be any poisons, but one couldn't be too sure.

"To adventure." Saren said. Severus raised his glass, barely disguising his snort as a cough, and waited for Saren to drink for his before following suit.

"Always careful," Saren observed.

"I have to be," Severus grumbled, the alcohol burning the back of his throat.

"But you didn't answer my question. Who are you running from?"

"We don't know," he said glumly, tipping back some more brandy. They had an idea, but Severus wasn't sure it was a good idea to share that with Saren. For all they knew he could be connected. He had little scruples with whom he had dealt with in the past. As long as they paid in gold coin, he didn't mind much where their loyalties had been. Though that had been to Severus' advantage these last few years.

"You may not know exactly who is after you, but you have an idea of who sent them," Saren pressed.

Severus sighed. "Lord Voldemort." It was the first time he had said his name in years, but the fear of it was gone. His head felt a little light and his stomach queasy.

"He's back?" Saren sat back in his chair, staring at the amber liquid in his glass. Severus noted that he had only taken that first sip. He hadn't touched his drink since then.

"We're fairly certain. He's collecting ingredients for something, a potion maybe. A child was found mutilated, her heart ripped out of her chest. An elderly man went missing. A cow was drained of its blood." The words just slipped out of his mouth. He couldn't stop them. This was much more than he had planned on sharing with Saren. It was too dangerous. The other man slammed his glass down on the table, and marched over to the bookshelf.

"What did you put in my drink?" Severus slurred.

Saren waved a dismissive hand at him, flipping through the pages of a gigantic leather bound book. A snake eating its own tail was embossed on the cover and the pages looked like they might crumble away to dust the moment you touched them.

"Just as I suspected," he said, bringing the book over to his desk and running a finger down the page. His mouth moved as he read the words there silently to himself.

"What did you put in my drink?" Severus asked, louder this time. He stood shakily to his feet, grabbing the arm of the chair to steady himself.

"Just a few drops of Veritaserum. You aren't the most open man, Severus. I figured you needed a little help."

"I'll kill you!" He reached for his wand. Saren spun around to face him, his wand already drawn and pointed at Severus' chest.

"No you won't because I've just solved your mystery."

A/N: Reviews are love.


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

_Zeus does not bring all men's plans to fulfillment. _  
Homer

"What?" Severus slurred. Saren brought the book closer and shoved it in Severus' lap. He tried valiantly to read what was written but the letters swam on the page.

"I can't read this!" Severus sneered. "Veritaserum and alcohol shouldn't be mixed."

Saren took back the book and settled back in his chair. "Sorry about that. It couldn't be helped."

"It bloody well could," Severus said, though he cringed inwardly at how close he came to a whine.

Come, come, Severus, do you want to hear what I have to say or not?" Saren chided him. Severus nodded. Saren cleared his throat and began reading.

_"The sight of one wizened and old.  
The beating heart precocious and bold.  
The blood of a sacrifice carefully fade  
Into a brew by a master made."_

"There are of course some more mundane ingredients listed but Petrarch did tend to be melodramatic."

"But what does it do?" Severus asked.

"Revives the near dead," Saren answered. "To more than double their power."

"Why not use this the first time?"

"Why go to all the trouble when Potter is much more readily available and makes for a better show. You have to admit that the Dark Lord liked the Spectacle as much as he liked the all-encompassing power."

Severus nodded his head in agreement. It was true. "Dear Merlin!" he cursed under his breath.

"Quite the dilemma, I say," Saren said with a large yawn. "Time for bed," he announced. He stood up, patting Severus on the shoulder as he passed by his chair. "Go back to your young witch and worry about this tomorrow."

"The mood is lost with such news," Severus said morosely. He threw back the rest of his drink, despite the Veritaserum.

"Indeed. I do apologize for that."

And then he was gone. Severus sat staring at the dying fire. He vigorously rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and contemplated this news. In the back of his mind, he had known that it could be this bad, but having it confirmed…it was more than he wanted to think about at the moment. With a large sigh, he took himself up to bed.

Back in the bedroom, he found Hermione already in bed. A wet towel hung over the chair in the corner and she had folded her dress robes and laid them on the vanity. She had fallen asleep waiting for him, curled up in a ball with her hand on his empty pillow. Severus shook his head, disrobed and climbed into the bed next to her.

He knew she didn't like to be crowded, so he didn't pull her into his arms like he really wanted. Instead, he wrapped his hand around her smaller one and pulled it to his chest.

"I think I'm falling in love with you," he whispered. His heart stood still as she shifted in her sleep, but his words weren't enough to wake her.

It was a good thing she was asleep after all, he decided, the truth serum Saren had used had yet to wear off. He didn't like admitting that she had invaded more than just his home, but his life and even his heart, even to himself. He definitely didn't think he was ready to admit it to her.

* * *

Hermione woke up the next morning, the shady remnants of a particularly randy dream fading too quickly from her mind, to find herself in a strange bed. Slowly, she remembered where and why she was. Severus had joined her in the bed after she had fallen asleep last night. Thankfully, he had stayed on his side and allowed her some breathing room, but he clutched one of her hands in his and held it to his chest, almost in the same way a child clung to a teddy bear.

She smiled and scooted closer. In all the craziness of the last several harrowing weeks, he was the one constant. She didn't know what she would do without him. With her free hand, she reached out and caressed his cheek, his stubble tickling her palm.

He woke up with a moan. Cracking open one eye, he stared at her.

"Good morning," she whispered and then kissed him on the corner of his mouth.

"Is it?"

"Could be worse," she said.

"I suppose you're right."

"Did you just admit that I was right," she said, feigning shock.

He frowned at her and flipped over on his back. "Doesn't count," he told her. "You're taking advantage of my weakened state."

Hermione just huffed indignantly and crawled on top of him. He wrapped his arms around her with a sigh while she buried her head in his neck. He smelled like brandy and smoke and potions ingredients, not a particularly wonderful combination but she felt safe in his arms and that was all that mattered.

"We should devise our plan of action," she said.

"Go on then," he said with a yawn, so it sounded more like "Gooen."

"You're in charge now, remember?" she reminded him. He had said as much last night. And with her lack of success thus far, she was happy to relinquish responsibility to him.

"You want to go to Aruba to find your precious Potter," he said, saying her friend's name like it was the dirtiest of curse words. Hermione frowned against his neck. "And we don't want anyone knowing where we are going. I suggest more disguise and subterfuge: Several different destinations utilizing different means of transportation and different names and identities in each place."

"Sounds reasonable enough," Hermione said. "Where do you want to go?"

"Floo to Paris, take a Portkey to New York, and then Apparate to Aruba."

"I think we should throw anyone following us for a loop by adding a Muggle flight from New York to a city in the southern United States and Apparate from there," she suggested.

"That seems unnecessary," Snape said quickly. Too quickly, Hermione thought.

"If you can fly on a broom, you can fly in a plane," she told him soothingly.

"We'll see."

They lapsed into silence. The sun began peeking its rays through the curtains, and Hermione admitted that with the last few days behind her, it was nice to just be still and relax. But it was hard to keep her mind from going back over every little clue and piece of evidence they had. She knew if she didn't distract herself in some way, she would drive herself batty. So instead, she focused on the man beneath her. She could feel his heart beat through his chest and she liked how his rough palms glided up and down her arms and across her back.

"Tell me about your childhood," she said.

Snape didn't answer right away. Hermione had begun to think he had drifted back to sleep when he finally said, "it was short."

"That's it?"

"There's not much more to say," he said in a tone that brooked no argument. Hermione didn't press the issue. "And yours I'm sure was full of sugar, spice, and everything nice."

"Minus the sarcasm, yes, I suppose it was. Until I came to Hogwarts, was almost killed by a troll, and became best friends with Harry Potter," she said.

"Do you miss it?" he asked, rolling them over onto their sides.

"Miss what?" She missed Ron and Harry acutely. She hadn't felt whole without them. And that had been a long time.

He pushed the hair back away from her face and looked at her with intensely dark eyes. "The Muggle world—do you miss it?"

"Sometimes. Not a lot, just when—" she didn't finish the thought, but clenched her eyes shut and tried to block out the horrific memories of the last war.

"When things get tough?" His voice rumbled low.

Hermione nodded her head. "It's silly, because of course things are bad in the Muggle world too, worse even, but it's comfortable."

"Your turn," she said, reaching up and fingering a lock of his hair. In the bright morning sunlight, she could detect a slight purple sheen at the ends, making her smile. Snape shook his head.

"Tell me something that no one else knows. I want to know a secret," he said.

"Why? Why are you asking me this now?" Hermione asked.

"I've left my home for you. I've got the Ministry and the Dark Lord after me because of you. I'm getting ready to set out to find Potter for you. I want a token of your trust. I want to know I'm not being taken advantage of again."

"A secret?" Snape nodded. Hermione contemplated what she could possibly tell him that would satisfy his curiosity.

"I cast the Cruciatus Curse once," she swallowed hard and clenched her eyes shut. She had never told anyone this before. "During the war," she continued.

"How did it feel?" he asked her quietly. Hermione didn't answer because the truth was that it had felt good to feel that sort of power coursing through her, to know that the reason Bellatrix Lestrange was writhing on the ground was because of her, Hermione Granger.

"You liked it, didn't you? And that scared you."

"Of course not," she said quickly. She turned over and started to get out of bed, but he caught her and pulled her back against his chest, burying his nose in her hair and the back of her neck.

"We're not done strategizing yet," he said. She felt his lips whisper against her skin and it made her shiver. She grabbed his hand that lay on her stomach, giving it a squeeze.

"Then let's get on with it then," she told him, arching her neck back to look at him. He allowed her enough room to flip over onto her back and then they made their plans.

* * *

Saren provided the Polyjuice and Hermione learned that Snape had a disturbing habit of collecting people's hairs.

"Do you prefer to be the clerk at Madame Puddifoot's or Minerva McGonagall?" he asked as they prepared to leave.

Her mouth dropped open in response. How long had it been since he had even been to Madame Puddifoot's or seen Professor McGonagall? It had to be years by Hermione's calculations.

"You haven't seen his devious side yet?" Saren asked with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. "Severus, you're going to scare the poor girl if you keep this up."

"No time to pussyfoot around," Snape said. Hermione wasn't sure if he was talking to her or Saren, but it didn't really matter.

"Give me the clerk," she said, taking the hair and the vial from Snape's hand with slightly more force than was actually necessary. Two agonizing minutes later and she looked nothing like herself, and neither did Snape. She didn't recognize him but he assured her that he resembled a member of the Department for Accidental Magic.

Saren saw them to the door. "Next time I want to see you with some potions that I can sell!" he told Snape. Severus just waved him off and started down the alley. Hermione knew she would see him soon in New York, but until then they had decided to split up.

She paused and bent down to kiss the short man on the cheek. "Thank you for everything," she said softly.

"You're welcome," Saren said, a slight blush rising to his cheeks. "For more than you know." She heard him say under his breath. She didn't have time to wonder what he meant.

* * *

Severus didn't like the idea of leaving Hermione behind, but strategically it made sense. The Ministry and the Dark Lord knew they had been traveling together and would be looking for a pair, so Severus and Hermione decided to travel in part alone and in part together with each leg of the journey in a different disguise and using a different mode of travel. It made sense, but relief still flooded him when he felt her take his hand and kiss his cheek in the terminal of the Muggle airport in New York.

"I booked us tickets to Miami and New Orleans. You pick," she said, handing him a packet of papers. "We can easily get to Aruba from either locale."

"If anyone has been able to track us this far, they might assume we're going on to New Orleans because of the large magical community there," he reasoned. He led them to a row of chairs and sat down, one packet in each hand.

"Or they might think we would want to avoid other witches and wizards and headed to Miami," Hermione argued.

"So which is it?" He pursed his lips and tapped his foot, staring at the tickets. Finally, he reached a decision. "This one," he said, handing it to her.

"Miami?"

"I can speak Spanish if I need to," he answered with a shrug of his shoulders.

She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "So many hidden talents," she whispered in his ear.

He looked her in the eye. They were so close their noses almost touched. "I have many others if you care to let me demonstrate," he said in a low tone, appreciating the way the blood rushed to her cheeks and ears.

"Perhaps later," she said.

"Perhaps?" He didn't bother hiding the disappointment in his voice.

"Definitely later," she amended.

He smiled, stood up, and offered her his arm. "To Miami?"

"To Miami."

He didn't sound so sure an hour and a half later when they boarded and strapped themselves into their seats, although he endeavored to keep his nervousness from becoming obvious. It didn't work or Hermione was getting better at reading him because she squeezed his hand and assured him that Muggles "did this every day."

"They also walk around talking to themselves. It doesn't really inspire confidence," Severus retorted.

"I told you those are telephones," Hermione said exasperated.

"I didn't see any telephones."

"It's been a long time since you've lived in the Muggle world, Severus," she said, taking a magazine out of her bag and opening it.

"So I should just trust your expertise?" he asked, heavy on the skepticism.

She smiled and patted his knee. "Now you're learning." He captured her hand and pulled it up to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. She scooted closer, and after releasing her hand, he pushed up the arm between them and let her settle back against his side. She didn't even say anything when he nearly broke her hand while they took off.

She couldn't believe how easy Granger and Snape had made it for her. A simple charm to follow them from London and two Imperius charms to keep her two new "mates" useful for when she needed them was all she needed.

She would please her Lord and he would reward her beyond all others. Morphing her face into one with drab unrecognizable features, she set out to accomplish her mission. She would not, could not fail this time.

Once they finally landed (to his great relief) Severus convinced Hermione that a day or two in Miami would confuse anyone who might be following them by reminding her that he was officially in charge.

"I didn't think you really meant that," she said with a grimace as they waited to collect their luggage from the carousel. Bag after bag tumbled down onto the conveyor belt. Severus tensed as a particularly smelly woman shoved him out of the way in order to grab a bright red bag.

"Of course I meant it. You had your turn and you bollixed it up," he said as he tried to help her with her suitcase. But she wrenched it from his grasp. A brunette woman in yellow snickered nearby and he had to resist the urge to take out his wand and hex her.

"I did no such thing! I'm the only person on this whole bloody earth that cares about—"

He held up his hand to stop her tirade and was surprised when it worked. She shot daggers at him with her eyes. "All I want is a day or two here to relax and makes sure that no one is going to kill us while we sleep, to ensure that we don't lead the Dark Lord to the one person who might be able to stop him," he hissed.

"Fine!" she said with an exasperated sigh.

"Now you're learning," he told her, taking the suitcase she shoved back in his hands and followed her to the rental car counter. Oddly, it didn't get the same reaction when he said it.

* * *

Three hours later they had rented a car, found a hotel room, and had made their way to the beach. He glanced around, in part because they were on the run, but mostly because he felt ridiculous in the Hawaiian print shirt and khaki shorts that Hermione made him wear.

"You'll be too hot in that," she had told him in the hotel room, motioning at his black jumper and trousers.

"A Cooling Charm will suffice," he said in a clipped tone.

"But you'll stand out like a sore thumb."

"Which is why Merlin invented the Disillusionment Spell," he argued.

"So I can look like I'm talking to myself? I don't think so." With a wave of her wand, she had transformed his clothes into the atrocities he now wore.

Although he heartily approved her newest disguise. Severus had to restrain himself from throwing her on the ground and taking her right there when he saw her take off her beach wrap to reveal her in a red and white polka dot bikini. And then the way she looked at him over her shoulder when she asked him to help her with her sunscreen, she was driving him batty.

"You should wear some too. You're as pale as Nearly Headless Nick!" she admonished him after he leaned down and kissed her shoulder. She turned around and took the bottle from him. Pouring the white liquid into her one palm, she brushed her fingertips across his face and nose, gently massaging it in.

And then like a red polka-dotted sprite, she wiggled out of his grasp and skipped down to the water's edge. Severus settled down in the sand, cast his Cooling Charm and took in the scenery.

White sand stretched on for what seemed like forever, ending only with the vibrant blue of the water. Seagulls screeched overhead a crowd of colorfully dressed people. Kids ran by. The couple next to him were oblivious to everything and everyone but each other's tongues, which were currently entwined. And three teenagers laughed maniacally from behind him. In short, Severus Snape was in hell.

He looked for Hermione and found her. She stood with her arms covering her chest as the waves hit her just at her waist. He knew it would be a struggle to get her away from here and back into the hotel room where he wanted her. With a sigh, he scanned the crowd. Suddenly his gaze rested on a familiar face – a woman with chestnut brown hair and large sunglasses. Where did he know her?

When he saw the yellow shirt she wore, he knew – the airport. She had been standing next to them at the luggage carousel. He looked around, trying to see if he recognized anyone else from the airport. Had they been followed? And by how many people? Had that man in the red been in line at the rental car counter just ahead of them or was it just a coincidence?

"Aren't you going to get in the water?" Hermione asked him. He hadn't seen her approaching. Apparently, the water was too cold after all.

Ignoring the obnoxious way she kicked sand on his feet, he squinted up at her and shook his head. "I'm enjoying the view from here." The sun sparkled above her as water rivulets ran over her skin.

She plopped down on the towel next to him. He checked to see if the woman in yellow still sat three umbrellas over. She was. Hermione followed his sightline and narrowed her eyes.

"I see what you mean about the view," she said in a cold tone. "Would you look at that girl over there? Her legs must go on for miles."

"Stop, Hermione," Severus said.

"So you don't like Latina women, then what about that woman over there."

Although it was assuring to see that she was jealous, it was starting to get on his nerves. He reached over and rested his hand on her ankle. "I have been trying to get in your knickers for the last week now, you silly woman, so please spare me the jealous tirades."

He cut off her indignant harrumph. "Do you see that woman over there in the yellow? She was at the airport too."

"So she just arrived to Miami on vacation like us," Hermione sniffed.

"Or maybe she's following us," Severus said. Hermione looked doubtful. He stood up and gathered up their stuff. Offering her his hand, he pulled her up. "C'mon, let's go get some lunch. If she shows up there, then we know."

* * *

Hermione followed Snape up the beach to what might have been a romantic luncheon except that her date paid her no attention. Not that she minded too much. She was otherwise occupied as well.

"There are two more," she said when their sandwiches arrived.

"Where?" Snape asked as he popped a french fry in mouth.

"One in the corner and the other at the bar. Corner guy is making small gestures with his hand. I figure he's Disillusioned his wand. And bar guy hasn't taken his eyes off of our table since he came in."

"Well-spotted," he said. Hermione tried to hide her smile at this small piece of praise from him, but failed. Luckily Snape was too engrossed in their new friends. "Should we split up?"

She shook her head. "Maybe if there was only one of them, but with three it would only make things worse for us, not them."

"Then I say we finish our lunch, make our way out into the market, and wait for them to engage us."

"And if they don't?" she asked.

"We can't lead them to Potter. And the Dark Lord can't finish his potion without me," Snape said.

She furrowed her brow in confusion. "What? You figured out which potion he's brewing?"

He picked up his glass of water quickly and put it to his lips. Hermione glared at him. "Oh, didn't I mention that?" he asked, trying to sound innocent, except that Severus Snape didn't have an innocent bone in his body.

"You seem to have glossed over it," she hissed. "Where did you find it?"

"In one of Saren's books."

Hermione raised one of her eyebrows in imitation of him. She seriously doubted that Saren let Snape anywhere near his books.

"Fine," he relented. "Saren found it. Happy, now?" He popped another fry in his mouth, chewing loudly.

"Not really. What is it?" she asked. She forgot her food, now intent on what he had to say. He murmured, "Muffliato" and then told her everything. Her face tightened and she had to remind herself to breathe. It was like being back at Hogwarts those last few years where she continuously felt as though someone was sitting on her chest.

"What are we going to do?" she whispered.

"Stop him," Snape said with a shrug. His nonchalance in the face of such danger both irritated and grounded her. If he didn't worry, then neither should she. He had enough confidence for both of them. It would have to be enough.

"Are you going to finish that?" he asked, pointing to her hamburger sitting half eaten on her plate. Hermione shook her head. Snape scowled at her. "I'm not carrying you around when you faint from hunger."

"I'm finished," she stated. He glared at her for a moment longer and then reached over and grabbed it off her plate. She sat back in her chair and watched him devour the remains of her lunch while she mulled over what he had revealed. One thing was clear – they needed to find Harry.

* * *

Snape paid for lunch and they made their way to the toilet to down a few sips of Polyjoice, then Apparated to the street market a few miles from their hotel. Hermione forgot her anger from before and eagerly made her way from stall to stall, stopping most often in those that sold colorful scarves and jewelry.

"What do you think of this?" she asked, holding up a hideous piece of pink fabric. In her Polyjuice disguise she had more meat on her bones, with a different nose and blue eyes. But her hair remained the same bushy mess. She hadn't drank enough of the potion, but it should be enough to fool anyone trying to track them.

"It's horrid," he said frankly.

"What do men know anyway?" she said. Though he noticed that she threw it back on the table.

"More than you think," he said, reaching over her for a green scarf that a bit of a silver sparkle to it. He wrapped it around her throat and gave her an appraising look. It perfectly complimented her hair, even more frizzy in the intense humidity of the Florida heat. His lips quirked up in a slight smile. "There, now that's lovely."

She blushed at his compliments, but didn't hold back her opinion, "Too bad I won't be seen wearing Slytherin colors."

He grabbed the end of the scarf and smirked while she spun in circles to free herself.

"Aren't you a little old for school rivalries?"

"Absolutely not," she retorted, reaching for a turquoise ring.

He noticed a movement out the corner of his eye – a flash of yellow, the same color yellow he had seen in the airport.

"Here try this," he said, holding out a shell necklace. Hermione smiled and reached for it, but he held it up and motioned for her to turn around. He moved in close and draped the necklace around her neck. "She's trailing us," he whispered as he leaned in close to fasten it. Despite the hairs standing straight up on his neck because of the encroaching danger, he still took a moment to appreciate her perfume.

Hermione nodded. He paid for the necklace, took her hand, and escorted her through the street. The woman followed. Severus sped up, pulling Hermione along. The woman kept up, elbowing people out of the way as she went.

"Hurry up!"

"I'm going as fast as I can," Hermione said. Her face twisted in pain as she hobbled along. A flash of red sped by her, just missing her.

"Not fast enough!" Severus hissed. "The other two just joined her." A purple spell zinged by, catching Snape in the shoulder.

They ducked into a nearby alley. Hermione panted heavily, trying to catch her breath. She could feel the beads of sweat running down the sides of her face. Black and green dots blurred her vision. She was overheating.

"Are you okay?" Severus asked.

She shook her head. "Are you?"

How do they keep finding us?"

"I don't know." He sounded tied and defeated. Peering around the corner, he sucked in a breath. "Time to go. Can you Apparate?"

Hermione shook her head. "Not without leaving something behind."

Snape nodded and gathered her into his arms. Hermione wrinkled her nose and her shoulders tensed. It wasn't that she didn't like a good hug now and then, but was much too hot in this weather.

And then it hit her – a hug! But before she could voice her question, they popped away.

They landed in another alleyway a few streets over that Severus had spotted while running through the market. It had been the only place he could think of in a pinch.

"How did you find me before?" Hermione asked the second they appeared.

"What?" Severus let her go, grabbed her by the hand, and started moving. They slipped back into the crowded market.

"How did you find me at the Ministry Ball?" She pulled them to a stop.

He glared at her. "This is hardly the time nor the place for getting upset over something as trivial as a –Oh Merlin!" He shook his head, beating himself up over missing something that was so obvious now that he thought about it. "I cast a Tracking Charm," he confessed.

"That's how they're finding us. They must be tapping into it somehow."

"That's impossible! There has to be physical contact to cast the spell," Severus argued. A loud crack resounded in the narrow street they just left. He grabbed her hand and dragged her through the crowd.

"To cast it but not use it necessarily," she said from behind him. He shook his head violently. "Just remove it already! If I'm right we should be able to lose them in the next few minutes and if not—"

He stopped and looked back at her. Her brow furrowed and she bit hr lip. "And if you're wrong…" he prompted.

"Then I'm sorry for dragging you into this mess." She thought they were about to die. He could see it reflected in her eyes.

"Why are women always so melodramatic?" he muttered. He pulled her close again so that anyone standing nearby wouldn't see his wand and whispered the counter spell in her hair. He heard shouts as their pursuers pushed innocent Muggles out of their way. Severus clutched Hermione harder and concentrated on a deserted beach and Apparated again. It was a dangerous move but they were desperate enough to try it.

Just before the wind rushed in and overcame him, he heard the frustrated shouts of their pursuers and the surprised shrieks of the Muggles around them.

* * *

They waited over half and hour with their wands drawn. They didn't move a muscle but stood ready to strike at anyone who dared appeared, but no one showed up behind them this time. Even so, Hermione insisted on not using any magic.

"We don't want any trail they can find," she argued when she saw Snape's skeptic look.

"And how do you suggest we get to a hotel?"

"We start walking," she said. She took out her small bottle of Strenthening Potion and started off through the sand towards the lonely road ahead. A rickety bus stopped for them an hour later but not before they were covered in sweat and dirt. The driver took their money and waved them toward the back. A man in a brightly covered shirt informed them that they had landed in Nicaragua.

"Good thing you know Spanish," Hermione said. The bus bounced along and combined with too much sun and exertion, her head throbbed with pain, but she managed a small smile in his direction.

"Si, muy suerte para ti," he said.

A/N: Reviews are love.


	16. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

_Remember that great love and great achievements involve great risk._  
Anonymous

The longer the bus bounced along the dusty dirt road the more anxious Hermione became. Logically, she knew they hadn't been followed, but she couldn't shake the feeling of dread that filled her. Adrenaline still pumped through her veins from their recent chase.

She didn't realize that her constant fidgeting bothered Snape until he reached over and grabbed her knee. "Stop moving," he hissed at her. "We're safe now."

"I know, but I can't help but think about what will happen if they find us. Or if they realize we're going after Harry or if they find him first. And what do we do when do find Harry. There's still the other Hor—"

"Hermione!" Snape cut her off with a sharp look that reminded her of her school days. She snapped her mouth shut, ignoring the way he smiled at her sudden silence. He put his arm around her and pulled her closer. Dipping his head lower, he murmured in her ear. "Shall I tell you about the time I was nearly caught by Aurors while out fetching the Dark Lord his favorite ice cream?"

A giggle escaped her and she nodded her head. "What flavor?" she asked with a grin.

"Rocky road for him. Chocolate for me and vanilla for Bellatrix and Narcissa." His lips brushed the edge of her ear and she shivered even as she let out another chuckle. All the nervous energy that coursed through her suddenly took on a new purpose, funneling itself into the beginnings of lust. The closeness of Snape and the sound of his deep even voice pitched just low enough for her to hear intensified it.

"Are you trying to distract me?" she said.

"Yes. Is it working?"

Hermione nodded. "Tell me more," she said. She took his free hand in hers, turning it over and tracing her fingers over the lines of his palm while she listened to him tell her stories about his past. They were all nonsense, but they did as he designed them to do and that was make her forget her other preoccupations.

They bounced along the dirt road for another half an hour before rolling into a small town on the coast. They climbed off the bus and looked around. A few stalls of fruit and woven goods made up a ragtag marketplace. A group of people crowded into a corner bar where Severus could make out the sounds of a live football game on the telly. It was clear that this tiny bit of civilization in the middle of nowhere was a far cry from the teeming masses of Miami. Several haggard old men sitting along the street outside craned their necks to see the two British tourists. Severus scowled at them while Hermione took no notice.

"I don't think we've been followed," she said after several moments.

"I agree, but I still think we should lie low for a day or two." Severus pointed to a dilapidated building whose sign advertised that it was a hotel. Hermione nodded. The inside turned out to be no more charming than its exterior and it was apparent that they didn't get many tourists. The man at the desk looked at them strangely, but took their money and handed them a key, pointing gruffly at the stairs.

Their room was cramped, smelly, and hot. Hermione opened the windows and paced back and forth inspecting every nook and cranny, poking her wand into all corners.

Severus let her deal with the Locking and Anti-Tracking Charms. He lay back on the bed, the white crackled ceiling fading from view as he closed his eyes and tried not to breathe through his nose. He didn't even open them when he felt the bed dip beside him, though his hand reached over to take hers. Their soft even breathing complemented the rustle of the curtains in the wind. In the distance, Severus could hear people in the street below them. The quiet flowed over him.

After several long minutes, Hermione let go of his hand and moved. He opened his mouth to protest, but stopped when he realized she was scooting closer. She threw an arm over his chest and wiggled her way until she was straddling him. He opened his eyes and lifted a questioning eyebrow.

"It's too hot," he said.

"It's about to get hotter," she told him in a low voice.

"In that case, you should probably take this off," he said. He could hardly believe his luck. He glanced at the door and whispered a wandless Locking Charm. He didn't want to take the chance they might be interrupted…yet again.

He ran his hands up the sides of her legs and underneath the dress she wore over her bathing costume. He pushed it up to her waist and then let her take over from there, appreciating the magnificent view of her upper torso covered only in her skimpy red polka dotted bikini. His body reacted instantly and her wriggling around only furthered matters.

"And you're probably stifling in this horrible shirt," she said after throwing her dress on the floor. With some maneuvering, she helped to divest him of his Hawaiian shirt.

"I should curse you into next Sunday," he grumbled as she peeled off the horrible shirt. "First with the pink robes and now this atrocity."

"But the robes went so well with your purple hair." He could feel her smile against his neck where she was kissing him. He growled as he grabbed her and rolled her underneath him.

"Fuck you," he rasped out, nipping at her ear.

"I certainly hope so," she said with a laugh. The sound of it reverberated deep inside of him. She had pierced his heart. He kissed her hard. But he couldn't wait for long. He sat up, ignoring her mew of protest.

"What happened to time and patience gets you a better potion," she asked as he ripped her bikini bottoms off and then began in on his belt buckle. She propped herself up on her elbows and smirked at him.

"I'm starting to see the merits of your earlier suggestion," he said, pushing her back down on the scratchy blanket.

"Did you just admit I was right?" she said with a cocked eyebrow.

He leaned in to kiss her. "Doesn't count," he mumbled against her lips. "You're taking advantage of my weakened state."

"Well, get on with it then." She wrapped her arms more tightly around his neck and pulled her flush against her. He didn't think it prudent to argue.

The whole affair didn't last long – not surprising when he considered it had been more years than he liked to count since he had been with a woman, but that didn't make it any less spectacular in his opinion. Severus rolled away, panting. Hermione propped herself up on her elbow and looked down at him.

"So," she asked, her voice breathy, "O material?" He shook his head. She frowned in consternation.

"D."

"Wha—" He muffled her indignant cry by pulling her down on top of him for a fervent kiss. She pulled away, her mouth hovering inches from his and her eyes flashing in anger.

"For divine," he clarified.

"Hmm," she hummed happily as she kissed him again.

"A—for amazing." Another kiss. "E—for exquisite." She slid down so she could kiss his neck and collarbone. He ran his fingers through her hair before grabbing her shoulders and rolling her underneath him. She gasped in surprise, but smiled as he gazed down at her.

"And O?" she asked.

"Orgasmic."

"Maybe for you," she said. She had a sparkle in her eye and with the accompanying nudge of her hips, he felt honor bound to comply.

He kissed her long and softly, taking a moment to regain his strength while gently stoking her passion again. He took his time exploring her curves and the smoothness of her skin with his hands, starting at her neck and moving lower. His mouth soon followed.

He assumed her soft cries later indicated that he was right all along. Time and patience did pay off.

With a satisfied smile, he settled on his side, pulled her close, burying his nose in her fragrant curls, and fell asleep. It was the best night's sleep he had in over a decade, homicidal maniac on their trail notwithstanding.

* * *

Her eyes still closed, Hermione slowly lifted out of sleep. With a dreamy smile on her face, she remembered the night before and reached out her hand to find Severus. She wondered if he might be in the mood for a repeat performance this morning. But her hand found nothing but the cold pillow next to her. Frowning, she opened her eyes to see him come out of the bathroom in a towel.

"You're awake," he said, stating the obvious. She opened her mouth to answer when a knock at the door interrupted her. Severus opened it, and a man in Bermuda shorts and a tropical print shirt came in pushing a cart full of food. She shrunk down in the bed, pulling the sheet up to her chin. She could feel her face redden with heat, and wished she didn't blush so easily.

"You ordered breakfast?" the man asked in stilted English.

"They have room service? This is hardly a four star hotel," she said.

"Yes, yes," Severus answered. "Just put it over there." He motioned at the table by the window, and then tipped the man as he left.

"I paid the guy downstairs to bring up some food. I wouldn't be surprised if his mother made all of this," Severus explained. A small smile touched his lips as he held out his hand to her. Hermione considered for a moment her next actions, finally deciding on wrapping the sheet around her like a very large toga.

"That's hardly necessary," he said, sounding disappointed as she took his proffered hand and followed him to the table.

"If you get a towel, then I get a sheet," she retorted. He sat down with a smirk on his face and pulled her down into his lap. With one arm around her waist, he used the other to take a plate and begin loading it up with an assortment of fruits, breads, and sausages.

"Hungry?"

"I woke up starving," he said, pouring them both cups of coffee. She took a tentative sip of hers and decided it definitely needed more sugar. Chuckling at her wrinkled nose, he tossed a few pieces of fresh pineapple in his mouth before holding a strawberry to her mouth to eat.

She bit into it, saying as she did, "I'm not surprised. You had a long day yesterday."

"A pleasant one," he said, holding her tighter.

"You're forgetting the chased by homicidal maniacs working for a revived You Know Who part."

"And rightfully so," he said with an evil grin. She looked at him expectantly. "It was hardly the climax of the evening."

"And just what would you call it?" she asked playfully.

"Foreplay."

She laughed out loud at that. He kissed her nose and urged her to eat some more. Nibbling at a muffin, she rested her head on his shoulder and watched as he shoveled food into his mouth at an exceedingly alarming rate.

And yet, he looked calm and relaxed. Hermione almost didn't recognize this Snape. She fingered his hair and then drew her hands down his face, reddened from the sun. He put down the piece of bacon halfway to his mouth and closed his eyes at her touch.

"I think Nicaragua suits you," she said.

"You suit me," he answered, leaning forward and kissing her. She smiled against his lips before kissing him back.

With a one quick movement, he stood up and swept her up over his shoulder. Hermione yelped in surprise. Snape carried her to her the bed, where he threw her down, landing on top of her in a large puddle of limbs. He kissed whatever skin he could find, which started out as her stomach and worked his way south.

* * *

They enjoyed their first morning away from danger, but he couldn't convince Hermione to stay any longer in Nicaragua, although if Severus were honest, he didn't really want to stay anyway. The small fishing town didn't quite measure up to original plan of a mini-holiday in Miami, Florida. After checking out of their fleabag hotel, Severus Apparated them both to Aruba.

They found a slightly better hotel on the small island just off the coast of Venezuela. In fact, Severus was certain that no local had ever stayed in the hotel. It was lavishly decorated with ceramic tile floors, elegant couches and chairs for guests to lounge in, and tastefully selected art.

"Do you have a reservation?" the man at the reception desk asked when they enquired after a room.

"N—," Hermione started to say, but Severus elbowed her in the ribs. He peered over the desk and looked at the reservation book. The name Maloney had been crossed out.

"It should be under the name Maloney," he said smoothly. "I know we called and cancelled but we caught a different flight."

"Excellent sir, we are so glad you could make it. Congratulations on the wedding. I am sorry, but we did give your room to someone else," the man informed him.

Severus smirked, slid his arm around Hermione's waist, and pulled her close. He ignored the rolling of her eyes. "We will take whatever you have," he said. "You understand."

The man's grin bordered on a leer and Severus held onto Hermione tighter. "Oh yes, I understand. Room 203 can be ready for you."

A shuffle of papers, money, and finally a key followed. Severus pocketed the key and headed for the lift, Hermione following behind him.

"You're very conniving, you know that?" she said as the doors slid shut.

"I thought that's what you liked about me?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. The elevator dinged and the doors opened on the second floor. Hermione just smiled and left him behind.

Severus followed after her, reaching over her shoulder to unlock the door. The room lived up to the expectations the lobby downstairs presented, and he hoped they would find some time to try out the large king sized bed in the middle of the room before resuming their investigation. The sheets looked infinitely softer and were certainly cleaner.

He excused himself to check out the loo and when he returned he found Hermione waiting for him, looking ready to head back out.

"Ready to go?" she asked.

Severus sighed. "You're very determined, you know that? Relentless, in fact."

She smiled and his resolve melted. He knew she was right. They needed to find Potter and soon. "I thought that's what you liked about me."

He shook his head. "No," he said, fiercely ignoring her frown. "We are not going back out this moment."

"As much as I enjoyed this morning, we really need to get back on tra—"

Severus held up his hand to stop her tirade from going any further. "You are still recovering from a curse, that may I remind you, almost killed you. And you have had a several exhausting days. You need a nap. And I need a break from your," he paused for effect, "sparkling personality."

"I do NOT need to be told by you when to rest and when to look for my best friend who is, may I remind you," she said in a mocking tone, "our only hope to stop the Dark Lord from returning. Or have you forgotten that nasty mark on your arm that's sprung back to life in the last few _exhausting_ days."

"Hermione," he started, but she cut him off again.

"And don't get me started on your own sparkling personality!"

Severus weighed his options. He could stand and watch as Hermione became angrier and angrier with him, which would not help his case later in the evening, or he could be passive aggressive. He went with the latter choice, sitting on the bed.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

"B—b—ut," she sputtered. "We need to find Harry."

He reached for the phone, picked it up, and dialed information. "Can you connect me to R. Snape, please?" He covered the phone with his hand and looked pointedly at Hermione who stood gaping at him. "In two seconds I expect to have the location of Potter."

She threw herself on the other side of the bed. "You could have said," she griped. He just rolled his eyes.

But it would be more than two seconds. A female voice informed him that after the beep he could leave a message for his uncle. Severus left a stilted message asking that he call him at the hotel with the information. He turned and glared at Hermione, who had started giggling at him.

"I thought you grew up Muggle?" she asked.

"That was a long time ago," he muttered. He stood up and smoothed his shorts. He still wasn't used to the Muggle clothes and wished he had his robes back.

"What do we do now?"

"We wait," he said, "and nap."

"And you call me bossy," she said, but she lay back on the bed and closed her eyes. Within minutes, soft snores filled the room. Severus made sure she was truly asleep and then slipped out of the room, making sure to put several Charms on the door before leaving to do some exploring.

* * *

There wasn't much to see if you weren't interested in cheap tourist trinkets, and he had to shoo away several native women interested in braiding his hair. If it looked bad with a purple wash, he could only imagine how it would look braided with pink floss on the end. But the trip wasn't a total waste. He found a small grocery store where he purchased a few things for their lunch.

Making his way back to the hotel with his purchases, he stopped at the front desk to ask for any messages. The clerk handed him a note. He set down his bags and ripped into it. Written on the paper inside was an address. Severus smiled to himself. He had walked right by there in the course of his outing. Hermione would be quite surprised. He hurried upstairs to fetch her.

Half an hour later, after she had rubbed the sleep from her eyes and straightened her hair, they left the hotel. Severus didn't tell her where they were going, but led her by the hand down the beach, past sun worshipers in their striped chairs and small children playing in the sand until they came to a short pier with several boats tied up.

"I arranged for a local to take us out snorkeling," he said, stepping up and on the dock.

Hermione frowned, the frustration in her building. "We are supposed to be looking for Harry, not enjoying the sights," she said through gritted teeth. She balled her hands into fists when she saw his trademark smirk.

And then she caught a glimpse of a tall man with messy brown hair in a boat at the end of the pier. He bobbed out of view as a wave crashed into the shore before she could positively identify him as Harry but the smile on Severus' face could only mean one thing. Her heart started racing.

"We're going snorkeling with Harry?"

"The Boy Who Lived is now the Boy Who Snorkels," he said.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You couldn't just tell me?" She hoped she sounded more put out than nervous.

"It's not nearly as much fun that way," he said, taking her hand and leading her down the pier. She resisted the urge to pull away, only because she wanted to see Harry again. Severus gave her hand a squeeze as they neared the end of the dock. The man in the boat rustled around in a blue plastic cooler, his face turned away from Hermione, but even from this distance, she could tell from the way he carried himself, the cursing under his breath with a hint of British accent still left. Tears welled up, collecting at the rim of her eyes.

"Mr. and Mrs. Smith here for some ocean adventures," Severus announced. Harry turned around suddenly, a cheerful greeting on the edge of his lips until he saw Snape.

"You!" he accused. He leaned over to reach for something, but Severus proved too fast. In two seconds, he had his wand out and pointed at her childhood best friend.

"Tsk, tsk, Potter. Is that any way to greet your superiors?"

"You are NOT my superior you worthless bag of—" and then he saw her. "Hermione!"

He launched himself at her, pulling her down into the boat. She hugged him back, ignoring the painful way her shins bumped against the side of the boat. Clinging to him, she hardly believed after all this time that he was really here. They stayed like that for several long moments until Severus finally cleared his throat.

"I believe I paid for an afternoon of snorkeling. Are we going to leave the dock at some point?" Severus asked with a sneer. Harry let Hermione go, scowling over her shoulder, but he turned and swept his hand in a grand motion of welcome.

"Come aboard then," he said with over the top and obviously fake enthusiasm. Hermione sighed inwardly. What should be a great experience, seeing her best friend after years of wondering if he had survived after the war, would be ruined by the presence of Snape.

She reached out and pinched Severus' arm. "Be good," she warned under her breath.

"And when am I not?" he hissed back.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Just about all of the time."

Snape threw himself into the padded seat at the front of the boat, glaring now at both her and Harry. "I didn't hear you complaining about it earlier," he whined. Hermione rolled her eyes and sat down next to him.

"That's because you weren't listening," she said. He didn't have an answer for that one. Harry manned the wheel, pointed out the life jackets and then jokingly mentioned that the emergency exits were anywhere over the sides. Snape Conjured up hats for them to wear and pulled a bottle of sunscreen from his pocket. Hermione thanked him and tried not to notice the evil glare Harry shot their way while Severus put the lotion on her back.

Fifteen minutes of flying over bouncing blue waves, they came to a stop. The motor died and the only remaining sound was the slapping of the waves on the side of the boat. A striking orange coral reef lay beneath them and hundreds of yellow and gray fish darted to and fro. Hermione marveled at the beauty of it all and she almost wished they were really here to snorkel. But they had work to do.

"I don't suppose you are here to see the scenery?" Harry asked after dropping the anchor and coming up to the front to join them.

"Not particularly," Severus said.

"Though it is beautiful," Hermione said. "I can see why you came here." A lump formed in her throat and she tried to forget that Harry had left without a word to anyone other than Snape.

"So why?"

Hermione and Severus looked at each other, and with a small nod of her head, she answered his unvoiced question. With a deep breath to steel himself, he thrust out his arm for Harry to see.

"It's your Dark Mark, so what?"

The boat bobbed up and down. Hermione wasn't sure if it was the topic at hand on the constant movement, but her stomach churned in protest.

"After Tom died, Harry, the Mark faded away to nearly nothing, but—" Hermione stopped and Snape took over.

"But a few days ago it came back to life. I could feel Him calling me through it – like old times."

"Him? With a capital H?" Harry asked.

Hermione and Severus both nodded grimly. They watched as Harry struggled to put the pieces of the puzzle they had given him together.

"But how could He have called you? I killed Him."

"Not all of Him, Harry," Hermione said.

"But if that's true, then we missed…then there's…"

"There is one Horcrux remaining, Mr. Potter," Severus said.

* * *

A/N: As my name suggests, I suffer from great vanity, so please leave a review. Thanks for reading!


	17. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

_Why love if losing hurts so much? We love to know that we are not alone._  
C.S. Lewis

They didn't end up snorkeling. They barely made it back to shore without Snape and Harry drawing their wands on each other. As soon as they landed, Snape hopped out of the boat and offered Hermione his hand.

"I—I thought I might spend some time with Harry. You know, catch up on the last few years," she said. She told herself she shouldn't feel guilty, but the harrowing look he gave her didn't help things.

"I'll see you back at the hotel," he said tersely. Without another word he stormed off down the pier. Hermione turned back to Harry.

"I never dreamed I would live to see the day Snape wore Hawaiian print," he said with a mischievous smile, watching Snape in the distance.

Hermione turned, trying to be angry, but the look on Harry's face broke her resolve. She started laughing. "Me either," she agreed, "Me either."

***

Harry took Hermione back to a small apartment that overlooked the water. The view was breathtaking. A cool breeze wafted in the window bringing with it the smell of salt and sand.

"What do you think?" Harry asked her. He rummaged through the refrigerator, finally pulling out two bottles of beer. He handed her one. Hermione looked around. It was a small and cramped apartment, but with a distinctive woman's touch. There were flowers on the coffee table and the prints on the wall coordinated with the sofa.

"It looks like you have a girlfriend," she remarked.

Harry smiled. "Still don't miss a thing do you? Her name's Catalina." He motioned for her to sit down. "So how about you? Are you and Ron married yet?"

"We…" Hermione paused. She tamped down the flood of anger at Harry leaving without telling anyone. "We didn't stay together. We wanted different things in life."

"Oh." He sounded perplexed. There was a long pause. The silence hung in the air. "How is he?" Harry asked.

"He's in Egypt, breaking curses with his brother Bill. Molly and Arthur assure me he's doing fine when I run into them." It was strange, she thought, this awkwardness between them. It had never been like this before.

"And how are you?"

"I'm…" She thought about how to answer that question. She worked too hard and had few friends and little contact with her family. She had almost died in the last month from a Dark curse. She had lost her job and no one would listen when she tried to warn them about the imminent return of Lord Voldemort. And she had taken up with Snape, although that would be construed as a bad thing by Harry, she wasn't so sure it wasn't the best thing that had happened to her. It certainly outweighed some of the other bad things. "I'm okay." She took a swallow of her beer and tried to make herself believe it was true.

Harry didn't look like he believed her. "And you and Snape are—"

"Sleeping together? Yes," she answered.

His look of shock said it all. "Hermione!"

"Don't start with me, Harry Potter! He's been the only one willing to believe in me these last crazy weeks. He's the only one I've had to lean on. You weren't there. And neither was Ron!"

He had the decency to look chagrined. Hermione looked away, pointing her gaze at the fantastic view out the back window. Harry gulped down the last of his beer and put his bottle down on the table with a loud thud. "We should talk about...what needs to be done."

"There is one Horcrux left," Hermione said. Just saying it gave her a chill. "It's the only explanation."

Harry nodded. "I have an idea about where it might be," he said.

Hermione perked up. "Really? Why didn't you say something before?"

"I wasn't sure. And then we had seven and he died."

"We thought he did anyway," Hermione said, but he continued on as if she had said nothing.

"I thought I deserved a rest. I thought I deserved some happiness. I didn't want to think about—" he drifted off into thought, his eyebrows furrowed. Hermione nodded. Suddenly the door opened and a stunning, leggy, woman waltzed in. She laid down the bags of groceries on the table and swooped over to Harry and kissed him brazenly on the lips. This was his Catalina, Hermione realized.

Catalina hadn't noticed Hermione until Harry pulled away from her and introduced his school friend, red-faced and stammering. Hermione tried not to laugh. She had been irritated with Harry for leaving abruptly, but seeing him here, happy and content with this woman, she realized why he had done it.

"You will stay for dinner, no?" Catalina asked Hermione. "I want to know all about my Harry as a boy."

Harry blushed some more. Hermione looked at him questioningly, wondering just how much this woman knew about Harry's past. He shook his head, so nothing then.

Catalina made them dinner while Hermione and Harry regaled her with imaginary stories about their childhood at the private boarding school of Hartwick.

"Remember the time we snuck into Slytherin House?" Harry asked with a laugh.

"No, actually I don't. I was in the infirmary at the time if you recall," Hermione said.

"What happened?" Catalina asked. She tossed a salad and looked from Hermione to Harry with a smile.

"She turned into a –"

"I turned my ankle," Hermione said before Harry could finish his sentence. "So Harry and Ron had to go in and steal the Slytherin banner without me."

Harry smiled sheepishly at them both, quickly moving the subject from their school days to how he could help. Catalina soon had him setting the table, while Hermione quizzed her about her own childhood growing up in Brazil.

After a long and delicious meal, Catalina finally excused herself. "I see you two have many things to talk about. Things I wouldn't understand." She kissed Harry on the cheek and whispered something in his ear that made him turn red. Hermione couldn't help but smile.

"It was nice to meet you," she said when Catalina offered Hermione her hand.

"A pleasure. I am glad that you came to visit. Harry does not make friends easily I know, so each one is that more precious."

Hermione nodded. Wondering if that was true then why did he leave them without a word. Harry must have seen her emotions written across her face because as soon as Catalina left he turned to her with a serious look.

"Hermione, there's something I should tell you. Two things really. First, I'm sorry I left without a word. I desperately wanted to let you and Ron know but I couldn't take the chance that it would get out where I was and then I would be back in the same boat as before. I thought that you had each other to lean on…"

Hermione reached out and touched his arm. "I won't say it wasn't hard. It has been, but only because I care about you Harry. You were my best friend."

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

"What's the other thing?" Hermione asked. It was too late to dwell on the topic of his abandonment.

"I don't know how to tell you this…"

***

Severus lay in bed, his hand resting on the pillow where Hermione should have been. He wondered if she would come back tonight. If she would come back ever. After their revelation on the boat, she had followed Potter back to his apartment and Severus had come back to his, their, hotel room.

When he arrived he hadn't been alone. A tropical bird carrying a note from Lucius had somehow found its way to their hotel. He had perused the note with a distracted interest and then had tried watching the telly. Most of the programs were in Spanish, and though he spoke enough of the language to get them a hotel room and ask directions, he couldn't follow the crazy plots of the telenovelas even if he had been interested, so instead he raided the mini-bar instead until it was a decent hour to go to bed. Sleep came only after hours of tossing and turning and then only with haunting dreams.

_He stood, dressed in his Death Eater garb, in a circle around the Dark Lord. A weeping woman lay curled in a ball at their feet. Severus couldn't drag his eyes from her, her tattered robes splattered in blood or the way her curly hair stood on end. The Dark Lord spoke but he didn't hear the words. He kept his gaze on the girl, watching as she raised her head in defiance, even as tears streamed down her face. A flash of green light—_

He felt Hermione finally crawl into bed next to him. On instinct, he reached out for her, frowning when his fingers touched scratchy linen rather than soft skin. She had left most of her clothes on—not exactly conducive to his immediate plans. He wanted assurance that she was still his even after her visit with Potter. He didn't come all this way and work this hard only to lose the girl again to a Potter.

He tugged at the bottom of her tank top and when it was properly relegated to the floor he leaned in for a kiss. Her cheeks felt wet and he pulled back. Not all of it had been a dream then.

"You've been crying," he said. "What's wrong _now_?"

"Nothing, nothing," she said, "I mean everything is wrong, right?" Her joke fell flat. Severus narrowed his eyes, trying to see her better in the dark.

"What happened at Potter's?"

"Nothing happened. Please will you just hold me?"

Severus nodded, knowing he would get no more out of her tonight. "Take off the rest of your clothes," he told her. When she did, he pulled her into his arms.

"You will tell me everything in the morning," he said with all the authority he could muster. She nodded sleepily, her chin bumping against his chest. With a sigh, he smoothed her hair, hugged her tight and fell back asleep.

She didn't normally like being crowded when she slept but tonight Hermione clung to Severus with every ounce of her being. She could feel his heart beat beneath her cheek and it slowly calmed her fears. They had found Harry. And soon this nightmare would be over.

Her fingers played over his bare chest as she contemplated the past weeks with him and what Harry had told her tonight. In his sleep, his hand came up and covered hers. Hermione smiled. Despite this whole horrible experience, despite what was to come, she had at least gained one good thing out of it all. She had Severus.

"I think I might love you, Severus Snape," she whispered. And then she closed her eyes and slept.

She woke up the next morning to kisses on her shoulder and collarbone.

"Good morning," Severus breathed in her ear. She didn't answer, but wound her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. He kissed her long and languorously. He moved over top of her and Hermione felt a welcome heat building between her legs. His hands moved down, first over her breasts and then lower, stroking and teasing her until she thought she might burst into flames.

Her hands played restlessly up and down his back until she could stand it no more. "Now," she whispered urgently. "I want you now."

"Now?" he looked down at her with questioning eyes.

She smiled and laughed, crashing her lips against his in a passionate kiss. "Now!"

He didn't argue, but quickly set about obliging her. He paused a moment and with one hand stroked her cheek. "You are so beautiful," he told her. Hermione smiled. She pulled him down for another kiss and moved her hips. He let out a deep groan and buried his face in her neck, moving in time with the rhythm she had set.

"And you are wonderful," she whispered into his ear.

With that encouragement he picked up the pace and soon Hermione was left gasping for breath, his name on the edge of her lips.

"You really are wonderful," she told him later as he rolled off of her. She turned and rested her head on his chest, pressing her lips to his skin. He tangled his hands in her hair.

"We're supposed to meet Harry at noon. He can arrange a portkey for us through some contacts at the Aruba ministry office," she told him. She nestled closer to him, letting her eyes drift shut. She could almost forget about Harry and the Dark Lord and everything and everyone else in the outside world while she was with Severus, but there were important things to discuss.

"I'm not coming with you," he said.

Her eyes sprung open. He stood looking down at her with a serious look in his dark eyes. Hermione shook her head. "I know that you and Harry don't get along but really—"

He put a hand on her shoulder and a finger over her mouth. "I don't want a lecture on 'why can't we all get along'," he said sharply.

"Then why?"

"I have something in South America to take care of first."

Hermione furrowed her brow and looked at him suspiciously. "What kind of business?"

"I'll meet back up with you in London."

"What business?" she repeated.

"Something, or someone rather, who might be of help to us. Or they might not, but I need to go alone," he explained.

"Malfoy?"

"Yes. I don't know if he'll come, but he was close to the Dark Lord at one point. He might have some additional insight."

"You were close to the Dark Lord, weren't you?" she asked.

"He was different for every person. Exactly what they needed him to be to win them to his cause, Hermione," he said with a tinge of regret.

Hermione balled her fists and tried to breathe. He couldn't leave her, not now, not after all they had been through together, not after what he had come to mean to her. Tears leapt to her eyes.

"I don't want to be apart from you," she said. She knew she sounded like a petulant child, whining after its favorite toy but she couldn't help it. It was the truth.

Instead of the cutting remark she expected from him, he pulled into his arms, resting his chin on the top of her head.

"I don't want it either but I'll be back sooner rather than later."

His words, so out of character for him, helped to ease the sting of disappointment. She leaned up and kissed him softly. "Will you hurry back?" she asked.

"Do you really think I would rather spend time with Lucius over you?" he said. He kissed her back.

"I don't know anything about your relationship with Malfoy," she said with a wicked smile.

Severus frowned at her. "Well, his hair is prettier than yours," he said.

Hermione narrowed her eyes, determined to make him pay for that remark. "But can he do this?" She wiggled her way towards the end of the bed. She noticed with satisfaction that Severus' breath hitched as her mouth neared his cock.

"I'm sure he can, it's just more a matter of whether he'd be willing," he said, gasping between syllables. And then Hermione made sure he couldn't speak anymore.

***

"You would return to me empty-handed?" he hissed. He wished for the strength to hex her for continued failure but only a handful of small sparks leapt from the end of his wand. All of his energy had been spent on the curse against the Auror. Now, weeks later, he still hadn't recovered. It made finding the Potions master that much more important.

"They will return to England, my lord. I am sure of it."

"Yes, bringing Harry Potter with them. That is the last thing I want right now!"

"I'm sorry, my lord," she said, her head bowed with shame.

"You should be," he said with a sharp kick to her shoulder. She rightly understood it as a dismissal and scurried away. "You will be," he said softly when she had gone.

***

"Will you teach me Spanish?" Hermione asked Severus later in between long languorous kisses. She hadn't slept in for years and it had been decades since a lie in had also included a man in her bed. She wanted to wring every last bit of happiness and contentment out these last precious moments with Severus in Aruba.

"What do you want to say?" He ran his hand up and down her arm and along the curve of her waist and hip.

"I like men who wear Hawaiian print shirts," she said, smiling.

"I don't know how to say that."

Hermione chucked him on the arm. "You do too! You just don't want to tell me."

He grabbed her hand and held it tight. His voice turned suddenly serious. "Te amo."

"What does it mean?" she asked.

"I love you." His fingers played nervously with hers, but he looked her straight in the eye as he said it. She smiled, leaning up to kiss him again.

"Te amo," she whispered against his lips. And then she kissed him, kissed him until all the world fell away and there was nothing left but her and Severus and two little words. And then it stopped.

Severus sat up quickly, throwing the covers off the bed, leaving Hermione cold and exposed.

"What are you doing?" she shrieked, reaching down for the sheet and pulling it back up over her. But he reached over and tugged it back down again. Hermione groaned in protest.

"We have things to do. Dark Lords to overthrow," he said. It almost sounded cheerful except for the sneer that he said it with. "Time to get out of bed."

"I'm not ready to get out of bed yet," she whined. "I'm not ready for you to get out of bed yet." She tried to look seductive but he ignored her, turning around and searching through his discarded clothes.

"Did you take your potion?" he asked, throwing his bag to her. The potions bottles inside clinked. "It's been a few days. The Darkness will have started building up in your system again."

"My legs are a little achy this morning," she said.

"And you've been increasingly cranky the last couple of days."

Hermione glared at him.

"My point exactly," he said with a vicious smile. "Take it, take care of the side effects, brush your teeth, and then get dressed. Potter shouldn't see you like this."

"And you call me bossy," she muttered under her breath. She looked up to see him giving her a questioning look. So he had heard her. Well, she didn't care. She stared right back at him.

"I would much rather spend all day in bed with you, but the Wizarding World needs saved and some overbearing, irritating, though terribly sexy Auror dragged me out of seclusion to save it. So let's get moving!" he finally said, one eyebrow raised.

Hermione lay back on the bed and heaved a large sigh. He was right. The time for romance and seduction were over. They had work to do. This was no time to stay in bed no matter how much she really wanted to.

***

A/N: Sorry for the delay. In the last year or so I quit my job, moved across the world, started learning a new language and traveled quite a lot. Hopefully the next chapter won't be so long in coming and will most assuredly be more action-packed than this transition chapter was.


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